Forever And Always
by Mercedes Wolfcry
Summary: I was born some time before the golden age of Cybertron, practically from the pits of violence that dwelled beneath Tyger Pax. I grew up fighting, learning, aging, and yet seemingly unchanging to myself. Beauty and elegance had no part in my raising. Being delicate got you killed; heavy armor kept you safe. This I learned, and this I kept. Sideswipe/Oc/Sunstreaker
1. The Beginning

(_**New story, new character, new setting, new stuff, lets roll. Its short, duh, but its also the prelude in a sense. Anyways, enjoy. I'll try and make up the next chapter soon; I hate doing preludes; they're always a pain in the ass. Chapter one, the prelude of Forever And Always. FAA… hmmm… where the hell do I come up with these weird ass acronyms? GIBTH? OITS?**_

_**Hmm… well, at least FAA is pronounceable, right?**_)

I don't really remember anything from being born, but I was told that it was messy, gross, and awing all at the same time. My mech creator, Nitrostreak, had told me that I didn't make a peep when I was born. I had stared up at him with blue optics, he said, as if I was judging his worth as a father. I honestly think it was a load of slag, but my creator defended that thought until his ending times. He said that when I finally decided to make a sound, it had been a piercing shriek, as if I was announcing that I was there, I was cold, and he had just been staring at me like some sort of dumfounded idiot. Nitrostreak said I was a strong child, something to be expected of a fighter, and something he was proud of as a parent.

The time I was born into was so very different from the Golden days. There was no one to rule us, to guide us, so rag-tag bands of bots would rove the planet, fighting to become the leaders of our race. During their petty squabbles, thousands of small settlements and towns were torn to shreds. Many Cybertronians died daily. The ones who were tough enough to protect their own were the ones who could have a family. My creators, for many generations back as well, had been bots of strong physique and mind; we were born and literally bred to create fighters who could hold their own against anyone who tried to harm us. That such trait, many generations back, is what led our family to pit fighting.

My earliest memories are of my youngling days, days past so long ago that none but myself remembers. It was warm, I remember, as I was nestled against my carrier's chest plates. Shadeburner, my 'mother' as humans would have dubbed him, was showing me the ring, where I would spend most of my days in Tyger Pax. I recall him telling me about it, but I don't recollect just what he was telling me. At the time, I was perhaps the equivalent age of a human toddler, and the words he spoke to me were lost to my young and quite frankly uninterested mind. Shadeburner's voice had lulled me to sleep not too much later, the vibrations of his voice soothing me as the thrum of his spark below me had as well, as he spoke my name softly, trying to rouse my attention.

The name that I was given hadn't been made known to me until I could understand words well enough to speak. My mech creator had wanted to name me Loudspeaker, but my uncle, and my mech creator's twin, Windstrider, managed to avoid my designation becoming what it could have been. Nitrostreak, as Uncle Windstrider told me, left the decision up to him, since he wasn't good with names. Windstrider named me Nightstrike, on account of the fact I was almost the spitting image of Shadeburner.

Uncle Windstrider had joked about me needing a strong name to fight in the pits, and to fight through the strife ridden times that was the age before the Golden times. He never could have guessed what battles I would face, what things I would fight. But he said that once one is born a fighter, being a fighter is all they'll ever really be.

I believe he was right in some manners. I'll leave those up for you to decide, though. Perhaps you will see what he did not, and what I am for all intents and purposes blind to.

I am who I was back then, and I am who I am now. Forever and always Nightstrike, heedless of the changes forced upon me, and the fights that I partook in.


	2. The Threshold

(_** Heya. Next chapter for FAA. Hope you like it~ I hope the prelude didn't confuse you. We'll get to see Nightstrike grow from a youngling into her old and cantankerous self eventually.**_

_**The base concept of whips and future toxins goes to Whatayamacholit~**_

_**Chapter 2, away!**_)

I stood in the training arena, in front of a strange mirror like metal sheet that my Uncle Windstrider had procured on one of his many off planet excursions. It was my first day of training, since I just recently got my upgrade for weapons. With the violence around us rising, my carrier and sire decided that it was time for me to get my weapons, even if it was early for a youngling to receive their weapons. Nitrostreak asked Windstrider to train me; for he could go harder on me then they could bear to go. Pit fighters or not, my creators didn't like to see me hurting, especially if they made me do it.

Windstrider stood behind me, his light blue armor a sharp contrast to mine, his clawed hand rested on my shoulder. "Nightstrike, tell me, what do you see?"

I looked up at him, since I stood roughly a little over his knees, my shorter antenna's waving on top of my helm. "What do you mean? What do I see? Like, what we look like?"

"For starters," he spoke gently to me, indigo optics gazing coolly down at me, "yes. Describe how you see yourself and me. What do you notice? Remember, use those analytical skills your Mimi has been teaching you."

I took a long moment to study my uncle from the reflection in the mirror. His frame was so different from mine, but that was to be expected. He was a mech; I was a femme. There were differences proportionally. Windstrider's chest was more square then my own, and was a light blue, almost kind of gray or silvery in the murky lighting of the arena. I flicked my glossa across my mouth plates. "I see you and me. We're different, yet kind of similar. You have larger wings then I do, and they are pointed and sleek. You have door wings like Creator Nitrostreak. Papa says that means you're fast." I gave a short trill at the end of my statement.

"You would be correct." Windstrider said. "What else?"

I hummed thoughtfully. "Your head fins are short and angled back, out of the way and aerodynamic. Your claws are always out, ready to fight, right?" He nodded silently at me. I beamed at him. "The metal of your fingers and hands is thicker," I reached up and tapped the metal of his hand on my shoulder, "and I already know you do a lot of fighting with your hands." The side of my mouth quirked up as I studied his reflection, nibbling my bottom lip component as I observed him. "You have a scar, right here," I pantomimed the warped line of metal that edged the lining of his face, going from his forehead, just below his helm covering, to the top of his lip. "And it's a claw mark. Papa has lots of them from Mimi."

"I actually received this from your carrier when we sparred long before your sparking." He said to me. "Good observation; eventually, you'll have claw marks similar to my own."

"When do we get to the weapons? I want to try out my new whips!" I chirped.

"Later," he grunted. "Now, what do you notice about yourself?"

Observing myself, I clicked. I have wings. I'm black, and I've got the blue optics that run in our family unit. My shoulders and hips are broad for a femme, and for a youngling my age. I'm a bit on the short side, given the taller bots of my family, but I'm still young compared to them when they trained. My antenna's wiggle, and door wings jiggle, and on my forearms I have two tiny ion blasters, along with the chamber my whips would pop out of. Claws tucked away, my hands look like a normal Cybertronian. Underneath the chamber for my whips, I have a set of short blades that run along my forearm and can flare out, like wings, so I can fight with them. "I have wings like you, but mine are bulkier. When I get bigger, I'm going to be a heavy hitter, like Mimi. Where you are blue, I am black. I'll blend in better in the dark, kinda like what you named me for, except for my optics. My optics are too light a color blue. Papa says I got them from Grandcarrier. Is that true?"

"Too many questions, youngling." Windstrider said dryly. "You're here to observe, not question. But it is your first day; I will answer what you ask. Yes. My Mimi had that silvery blue color to his optics. But, unlike yours, his did not darken or shift shades just the slightest with every thought or emotion. That trait, unfortunately, you received from your Papa." He said. Withdrawing his hand from my shoulder, I watched him rummage around in one of his subspaces. "However, I have just the solution for that." He said. "Continue telling me what you see while I locate it."

"Okay. I have antennas, which usually wiggle around like those strange organic things you brought back one time. Worms?" he nodded absentmindedly at me. "Right. Like worms. But, I can make them lay flat, just like Papa."

"Oh?" he peered up at me. "Then do so. I haven't seen them still since you were not even an orn old."

I flattened my antenna's down against my cranium. The pliable metal objects clicked into place, locked down by simple but effective clips that had grown with me as I got a larger frame. "See?" I stated. "They stay still."

"So they do." He murmured. "Continue."

Frowning, I considered what to continue with. "I've got a thicker body now that I have my weapons upgrade. I accidentally ran into the door last jour, and I didn't feel a thing."

"Good." Windstrider spoke. "Now, what are my weaknesses?"

I looked at him for the longest time. He was my uncle; similar to my creators, he was invincible in my mind. But, ever the obedient student, I studied him. He didn't appear to have any weaknesses. What he lacked in build, he made up with speed. Windstrider guns to fight at a distance, and claws and his fists for close up. I looked up at him and arched an eyebrow plate. "Is this a trick question? I can't find any weaknesses on you. There can not be any."

As he pulled out something in his hand, his other reached out and gave me one heck of a wallop to the back of my helm. "There are always weaknesses on any opponent." He scolded me. "You have to use that primus given processor of yours and think."

"I did!" I squawked as his whack jolted me forwards a step. Rubbing an aching dent in the back of my helm, I glared at him. "I couldn't find any!"

"That is because your opponent will hide them from you." He chastised me again. "You are younger then we usually train younglings, granted, but I will make sure you learn how to find that weakness in someone, no matter what I must teach you for you to learn it." Windstrider turned me around and knelt down. Holding my helm still, he raised a strange object up to my face. "It's too big, but you'll grow into it."

His fingers were in the way of my hand, so I let it drop back to my side as my doorwings rose. "Into what?"

Windstrider snorted at me. "A visor. My Mimi had to wear one, and so will you. Hopefully, your optics will darken as you age. Now hold still; you have the gear for one already, but I just need to insert this."

He gripped my helm tightly as he tilted my head back. I closed my optics with a small grunt, and felt the visor slide over my face. It rested just above my mouth components before it was snapped in. I bit my lip as a sharp ache perforated my skull as Windstrider shoved it up into my helm, the visor mechanism in my helm clamping around it like a vice and intergrading it into my systems. When he let go of me, I let my head roll back down to its normal position. The visor rested just below my nasal plates, and when I opened my optics, it saw that it was clear from behind, but from the mirror, it was a dark and sinister blue.

"I like it!" I chirped. "It kinda hurts though. Is it supposed to do that?"

"Yes." He nodded. Standing upright, Windstrider turned my body around again. "Alright. Do you see this point on your wings?"

I craned my helm around and watched. "Yes."

"This is a weakness." He tapped the base of the joint, and a spot around the middle of a small clump of wires. "When touched softly or gently, it can feel good." He stroked it gently, sending the plates in my back into a relaxed state as I vented happily. "But it can also cause pain." There was a sharp pinch to my wing, and my plates hinged up as a feeling similar to liquid fire rolled across my nerve wires. I lashed out on reflex, catching him in the face with my elbow and forearm as my back spasmed, inciting a pained garble from me as I thunked down onto my hands and knees. My optics watered, and I vented in pain.

From my prone position, I could see my Uncle rubbing his lower jaw with two fingers where a thin like of energon dripped where I had caught him with the end of my forearm plates. I flinched when he reached over my back and grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me up onto my feet with him as he stood. "You have promise." He hummed, thumbing his cut. "You've given me my first scar from my niece, and made me proud. A little bit of toughening up, and you'll be as good as your Papa was as a youngling. Perhaps you might even give me something a little bit bigger then this little pinched metal from your forearm."

I shuddered a breath, my arm reaching up in vain to try and make the pain in my back go away, the plates spasming like it was having a seizure. "Why?" I looked at him angrily. "Why did you do that?"

He bent down again and met my gaze with a cool look; similar to a look he had given my sire when he had 'accidentally' stabbed him in the foot with a short blade. "So I could introduce you to the very threshold of pain. Welcome to the pit-fighting academy, where we teach you to kill or be killed to earn your keep. I will be your teacher, your comrade, your friend, your tormentor, and your worst enemy for the duration of your schooling."


	3. Seven Rules

(_**Eventually I'll get around to updating OITS :/ but, unfortunately, we have one computer, and my mother left me with 1.5 hours to write. :/**_

_**Anyways, enjoy FAA. I'll stick with short chapters for this, I think, so I'm not doing long chapters for both.**_

_**One of you commented that this would be a very dark story. I think it's going to be dark, demented, with more ups then downs. Love will be there, but I think this is mostly going to be dark, with dark humor… Perhaps I might even get to show my own dark humor in this… hmm…**_)

The first years of my training was teaching me pain tolerance to torture, poison, and fighting wounds. If it could happen, it happened, and I had to go through with it. My first day was a well enough impression of that. If I didn't comply with what I was ordered, my pain would double, and triple, depending on what I did wrong. In those years, pain would become my best friend, and would be with me for the rest of my life. But, it all began, the cycle of pain, on day one when my uncle told me his personal seven rules of pain.

Rule number one; don't ever show pain. Your enemies feed off of it. Rule number two; there is never enough pain. Number three; don't ever scream. Number four; pain is the closest thing to your spark, and it's always there for you. Number five; tears don't make it go away, so crying is pointless. Rule number six; the only escape from pain that you will get is death. Rule number seven; pain is not a habit that can be quit at any moment, because it is simply a way of life.

My arms were chained up to two large poles, leaving my back and front open to my Uncles treatments. My optics were open, and I was staring blankly at the bots in front of me. Windstrider was teaching me to tolerate pain, and a few mentors were having their students watch me to see what could happen to them. Already, after my first taste a jour ago, my energon was dripping from my back where Windstrider had sliced me on accident. It pooled coolly on the floor in a small pool. Long ago, my parents had blocked our bond. They didn't need to be distracted by me, and vise versa.

"What was your first lesson on pain?" A foot planted itself in the middle of my back, lightly pressing the joints of my arms as he reached down and pinched the spot on my wing, sending my back into flaming spasms. My mouth fell open, and I gasped for the air solution that helped our energon flow better. I tried to speak, but nothing more then a pained groan would come out.

"It looks like you still haven't learned it yet." Windstrider spoke icily to me. His foot moved, and he pinched the joint at the base of my wings. Something dripped onto the joint, and pain flared, making me try and choke back a scream. Failing, the wail tore from my throat and my shoulders jerked, trying to pull away. "No!" he snarled. "No pain is ever worth a scream! Remember rule number three!" He reached around and clapped my jaw shut. From my right optic, I could see the mirror. He was using my weakness against me, like he said my enemies would. Something clamped down on my wings again, except it pressed ever harder onto my doorwings. My jaw fell open in a soundless cry of torment, my optics synching shut as the pain made my processor hazy.

His claws dragged down my back, severing my armor slightly, making energon drip, before some sort of burning liquid sealed it. The fresh chop of pain from a place other then my wings helped to clear the haze in my processor. "Now, tell me, what is your first lesson?"

I sucked in a sharp vent, my voice pained. "Never show your enemy pain. Pain entices them on. If they have so-" my back spasmed and my voice shorted. For fear of his claws again, I continued. "Something to use against you, they will."

He patted my helm gently. "Good. Now, on to lesson two. Would you like me to lessen your pain?"

Antenna's rising, I gritted my denta against tears threatening to fall from my now open optics. Lesson two was a trick question, but the answer was out of my mouth before I could stop it. "Please… Stop the pain."

In the mirror, my Uncles face twisted mercilessly. His hand curled into a hooked claw device, dripping with that pain causing sizzling liquid. He drove it down, right into the center of my helm, pouring it on my antenna. "Wrong answer!" he roared, dragging his damp claws down my neck and back, shoving his strange toxins in my right hip joint as he ripped a cable free, spraying energon.

I didn't scream, and I couldn't. It was caught in my throat, like the sobs behind my vocals were. My body jerked upwards, and I thrashed against my chains, pulling them taut and straining upwards onto my feet. The pain made me mindless; I fought, my claws lashed at nothing, and I roared when my throat unblocked. My base programming within me screamed to get away, to fight back, to do anything but sit here and let him torture me. My energon splattered as I strained against my chains like a caged beast.

His hand slammed into my shoulder, sending me down to my knees again. "I told you not to stand!" Windstrider hissed. "Remain on your knees until I say otherwise." I fought him, thrashing, until my body wore itself out, until my pain receptors no longer recognized the pain while I was in my position. When I was limp, hanging by my arms, my helm hung low as I vented, I heard him click to himself. "You fought longer then I thought you would, but defiantly not long enough. Now, what is the second lesson?"

My vocals hiccupped, and I swallowed. "There is never enough pain. If offered for the pain to lessen, don't ever take it…"

"Good," he praised. "Now, where did you go wrong?"

Tonelessly, I spoke. "I asked for it to stop."

"Indeed. Now, since you are numb to the pain judging by your vocalizations," he smirked, "I'm just going to tighten these vices. You wont take these off until I decide that your ready to have them removed. Coincidently, that probably wont be until we move from the first section of your training into the next."

When he had the vices tightened to the point they dented my doorwings, he stood up and released my arms. Boneless, I fell forwards, stabilizing myself on my hands, my wrists bleeding from fighting the chains and cuffs. I vented harshly, the sudden movement and suddenly being forced to hold my own weight made my pain receptors scream. My back spasmed and I let off a whine.

"Get up." Windstrider commanded. "Ready your close range weapons and get up." I stayed in my prone position, waiting for the spasm to end. I was met with a kick to the chassis that sent me rolling across the floor, something in my body dented to press into my vents. There was a thunderous sound of students and teachers backing up to give us space. "I said get up, Nightstrike."

I shoved my elbow underneath my body, and pushed upwards. My body screamed at me to remain down, but I knew it would only get worse if I didn't get up. Clambering to my pedes, my torn hip creaked and tried to buckle. Forcing the joint to stay locked in a standing position made it all the worse. The pain made me wobble, my optics and audios fizzing in and out before stabilizing.

"Good." Windstrider said to me. "Now, brandish your short blades and come at me."

I let my arm blades slide out, and then I leaned slightly and took off in an unsteady run for him. I gave a frustrated noise when I missed him, and instead he turned around a kicked me lightly, for him anyways, in my weakened hip joint. My leg collapsed, and I hit the ground on my wings, spasming in a wordless pain.

When my sensors no longer registered that small spike, my optics focused on my Uncles face. He looked at me. "For the first day, that wasn't bad. Your tolerance is good for someone your age, but when I am through with you, you wont feel anything." Uncle Windstrider reached down and hooked his nontoxic claws in the front of my chest and pulled me upright. "Too bad you didn't hit me." I rose up my blade on one arm and stabbed his forearm, before letting the blade retract. "That was cheating." He scolded, twisting one of my antennas painfully. "But I never did say no cheating." He chuckled.

I panted, venting harshly with the dent pounded in me. I turned hazy optics to his face as I hung there from his grasp, my blades drawn back. Helpless to his mercy, I waited for my next torment.

"I think we're done for today." He spoke. "After all, we need to get you fixed up so we can do this again tomorrow, and I need to get my antitoxin into you soon. It would be a waste for you to be crippled, even though you'd still fight just fine. Come on, let's go show your Mimi and Papa your first training bumps."


	4. Feel Like A Monster

(_**Glad to see your reviews~ Anyways, onto FAA chapter 4 I guess. More torment, a few weeks time shift… hehe~**_

_**More torment, BUT NOT AS BAD AS LAST CHAPTER IN MY OPINION. But it's for her own good, you know. There is reasoning behind all of his actions; pain can debilitate anyone. If you can't register pain, then you can't be incapacitated by it.**_)

Every day after my first day, the vices on my door wings were tightened marginally, along with my daily torture. Eventually, over several weeks of the same repetitive stuff over and over, with only a few twists thrown in, my pain receptors no longer registered Windstrider's teachings. Clamped on my wings, the vices eventually got so tight that they punctured the metal of my wings, tearing neat holes into my metal as easily as I would pop an energon line with my claws. But still, I felt nothing from them. The ends of my door wings were dead in a sense; very little could make the pain flare in my door wings anymore. The base of my wings was different; I couldn't numb that area, however I could grin and bear it.

During my training, Uncle Windstrider would attack my weakest spot, now identifiable as my right hip joint. His toxins had damaged the joint, as he had feared he might, and periodically it would collapse in a flurry of debilitating pain that would leave me seizing on the ground. He apologized for essentially crippling me, because we had no medic skilled enough to deal with anything as intricate as what was wrong in my leg. Every rolling step brought me pain, and he never helped it with his continual use of toxins on the weak joint.

Windstrider made me fight after my torments, with him, other instructors, and other students, so I would learn how to fight through my pains. Eventually, the devastating pain in my hip faded to a minor ache every time it would fail. I never asked him to stop, and he never offered. The only thing he could do to make sure I would survive this disability was to make sure the pain never registered on my central processing unit. Not long after it became an ache, it no longer registered. My Uncle pulled out one of my wires to see if it worked. It did nothing, except make my leg spasm with the missing nerve. No longer did I feel anything pain wise in my right hip.

As the weeks passed, the other students, some of the older ones, were getting thrown into a crash course on pain management. In the midst of my own turmoil, I got to listen to their screams, the sobs, and the sounds of purging in reaction to intense pain. Few remained quiet, and Windstrider told me that was because they were being taught about pain so late into their training. His philosophy revolves around pain mostly, he said. The earlier that one is taught numbness, the less likely they will be to ever feel pain when they leave the training arena.

It was just barely half a human year that my Uncle found it time to remove the clamps. Papa and Mimi chose to come see me train on this solar cycle, since I would be being taught something new from now on, along with occasional debriefings and revisions of my pain lessons.

I walked with Shadeburner as we moved down the long stairwell that leads down to the pits where we would train. My carrier kept a hand gently rested on my shoulders; shoulders that now stood just a little taller with the growth of my protoform. Mimi spoke to me then, soft and deep. "Do you know what Windstrider has planned?"

My antenna's flicked up at Mimi's tone, and I clicked softly. "No, Mimi. Do you know?"

Shadeburner laughed lightly at me, moving his hand to gently rub my helm. "Yes, my little femme."

I looked up at him, studying him. He used a visor like I did, but it was mostly just to add a 'creepy effect' to him when he fought. Shadeburner, much like his name suggested, was solid black, where I inherited my color. He had claws like my Uncle did; only he had no toxins, since his claws couldn't be hollowed out. Mimi had whips of fire, and was teaching me to better use my own whips at home, in addition to my training in the arena. He fought with claws, fists, blades, and whips, and Mimi was talented in all of his fights. "Your not going to tell me, are you?"

"No," Shadeburner chuckled. "But I know you'll do just fine. You'll have gotten the trait needed for this from your father, hopefully."

I tilted my helm slightly and watched Papa talk with WindStrider about twenty steps back. "What trait?"

"You'll find out soon enough, sweet one." He clicked softly to me. Scruffing me, he hauled me up to sit on his shoulder when my hip made me stumble, securing me with his arm looped over my shins. "I wish he hadn't done that." He frowned at me.

"Done what, Mimi?" I asked.

Shadeburner stared at me for a bit from behind his visor, his spark seeking mine through our creator-creation bond. "Crippled you so."

I wiggled my antennas at him, perking my doorwings. "Mimi, I've told you limitless times! I'm fine! Windstrider has made it so I can't feel anything, because he says that he feels like a monster if he's teaching someone, and all they can do is scream and writhe on the ground like a worm."

Leaning his helm sideways as his arm tightened over my legs, my carrier nuzzled my arm slightly. "I know, my sweet creation. But being crippled is never a good thing, especially at your age."

"I'm not fully crippled, Mimi." I protested. "I can move around and do things like the other trainee's, and I can keep up with you and Papa."

"You may not be fully crippled yet, my youngling, but if you get hit there, it _will_ end up crippled." Mimi pointed out.

I huffed at him. "Not if I don't let myself get hit. Don't worry so much Mimi. I'm just barely into my training, and our first practice fight against something a scarier then Sallowfringe's mentor isn't until next year."

Chuckling at me, Shadeburner bounced me, enticing a grin to stretch across my face. "True, but I'm your Carrier. Carriers always worry; it's the natural order of things."

"True, Mimi, but Papa worries a lot too."

I was snatched off of my Mimi's shoulder and settled on my Papa's shoulder when Nitrostreak bolted to catch up to us. Uncle Windstrider was barking with laughter above us as we neared the bottom. "I worry a lot about what?"

"Mimi worries that I'm going to end up fully debilitated." I stated in a matter of fact tone. "Tell Mimi that you worry too, but you know I'll be okay because I still have lots to learn, and uncle Windstrider says I have promise."

Nitrostreak repeated what I told him to say, chuckling at me before he spoke to me of his own accord. "Your just like me. You set your mind to it, and you make it happen, right?"

"Right." I nodded.

We were greeted by the tormented wails of my fellow students. They were deeper into their pain lessons, and there was not one of the students that weren't making some form of noise. A few were laughing hysterically, tears blotching their optics into rainbow hues. Some just screamed, and some make these strangled noises as they purged on themselves and seized about, like possessed machines.

I looked at them without flinching. "Sounds like they're not doing too good on the seven rules of pain, huh Uncle Windstrider."

"Correct." He breezed coolly, coming down to stand with us. He reached up and plucked me from my fathers shoulder, depositing me silently on the ground, and then flipping me around. He fiddled with the things on my door wings, though I couldn't really tell what he was doing. "You're loosing the clamps for now, Nightstrike."

I nodded back at him and set my antennas safely in their grooves. "Really?"

One of them plunked off like a dead weight, shortly followed by the other. "Yes. It would seem that we left holes in your wings." He commented dryly. "Perhaps I put the clamps too tightly into place."

Shadeburner turned me around so he could see, and then growled at my uncle. "You think?"

Nitrostreak hummed from next to my carrier. "Well, at least we have some spare metal to patch up those holes after your training. Its not the worse she's had, my dear," he nudged my Mimi, "but its not pretty. Does it hurt?" He asked me.

"No." I said. "But I haven't felt anything in my wings for a long time."

Nitrostreak gave me a pat on the helm. "Good! Then you wont have much troubles fighting in the pits when you're older." He gently stroked my wing, and I hedged away. "Did that hurt?"

"No." I said. "It felt good, but I don't like it. Pain feels more natural. Windstrider says it always will, if you can survive it."

Shadeburner growled. "And he's right. But pleasure is another thing that is natural; you have to be prepared to feel both." He said.

"I know." I said.

I would have continued, but Windstrider snatched me up and headed for the chains. "Enough chatter, Brother, sister." He said. "We came here to train; you came to watch. Be good spectators and stop distracting my student." Windstrider locked me up in the chains, and I stood, waiting. "Your goal is to stay standing for as long as you can."

I nodded. "Okay."

"If you are anything like me," Nitrostreak hollered, "you'll be just fine!"

He approached my front, and held his claws out at the ready. "Do you know what this is?" he let his claws glisten in a multitude of colors. Tilting his hand, he let me see the volatile liquid running over his claws, spouted from small holes in the tips that originated from somewhere inside his body.

I studied his claws for a moment. Then I looked up at him and met his eyes. "Pain." I answered simply.

"Yes," he said. "But it is also a few of the multiple toxins in my body that I carry. These affect Cybertronians and organics alike. This brew is my special mix, and this mix is made inside my body. I have an unlimited supply, and can create my own anti-venom which can be used as a toxin in itself."

I swallowed softly, and flicked my glossa out to wet my lips. "Okay."

"Your mech creator has an immunity to most of my toxins." Windstrider said. "In fact, a small level of toxin will always run through his energon lines, because he's been exposed to my venom since our training days together. In this trait, we hope even a small bit was passed onto you. The venom will eventually work itself into your system, and the more diversity you have, the more toxin you hold." He raked the mixture slightly down my chassis, and I watched it eat a small amount of my metal before it stopped and then started to burn and fester. "It's going to burn, and feel like a monster is clawing around within your energon lines. You will inevitably thrash, scream, and probably purge. The first exposure is always the worst, and I wont punish you this time for the rules of pain you will be sure to break."

Calmly observing it, I turned my optics up to his face. "Okay. Why do I need it?"

"The toxins will help defend your body against virus's, rusts, and other things that would ultimately cause your death." He explained. "Any of your energon that is left too long on your enemy's wounds would eventually cause a poisoning to them, and kill them."

Nodding again, I stared at his hand. "Sounds good. Lets do it." I waited for the first strike, wherever it may be.

"I'll give this too you in doses." Windstrider's voice turned icy, the voice my processor began to associate with his lessons, and he stuck at the joints of my wings, jabbing his talons into my cables. A burning liquid filled my energon lines, and I gave a low grunt. "Now, tell me, does it hurt too badly?"

"No." I said. "It will never be enough pain." I steeled my gaze and raised my head to meet his optics, as the burning spread to my back quickly. His azure optics held my gaze, as he made sure I saw his approving nod. He waited a while, until the burning was spread thinly around my body. It made my spark scream in pain, being assaulted by the liquid.

"Dose number two." He said, jabbing his claws again in to my wings. He dribbled some in the holes of my door wings too.

The burning flares of invisible flames that emanated from inside my back made my knee's go to jelly, and I wobbled. Staying on my feet, I vented harshly for a while. When it thinned as well, my whole body burning unpleasantly, I looked at him again. Windstrider grasp my face, inserted his claws, and filled the soft metal of my face with the toxin. Before me let me go, he muttered to me that I was at dose three, and also filled the main line cables in my neck with the toxin.

My vents shuddered and halted as my throat convulsed and restricted. The pain in my face, for he rarely touched my face, brought my mind into the toxic haze. Lost to the throws of poison so slow to dissipate from my face, I found myself on my knees, struggling to get up, and struggling not to cry out. Time passed so slowly, that I couldn't tell how long had actually passed, only that there was a buzzing in my audio receptors.

He struck again without warning, jabbing my stomach, and filling the plates full of venom, and then sending it squirting through my lines with a harsh and winding kick. It felt like my energon veins were being dissolved from the inside out, and that my spark was melting into a pile of nothingness. Another kick, and he delivered more venom, until my mouth fell open and I couldn't help but scream. I thrashed, jerking at my chains, and he slammed his claws into my throat again, pumping more burning venom inside me.

I hadn't eaten that morning, and for that I was glad. My tanks rolled, but there was nothing for me to even dry heave with. I shuddered, screaming again at a shot put into my right hip. Without missing a beat, his hand shot up to my chest. Windstrider's claws wheedled into my chest, past my armor, my protoform, and jabbed thin holes in an opening of my spark chamber. There, he released his toxin in thick bursts, bathing my screaming spark in the poisons.

My body jerked upright, and I roared, the pain flaring up higher then it had ever been. I tried to accept the pain, to let it enfold me, but I was lost amongst the swell. My optics fizzed, and I went silent and limp as my processor shut down. I awoke a few times as my body went into heavy seizures, fighting the toxins in my body. In one of my moments of spasming in the chains, I got to see my 'classmates' watching me raptly, and then I don't remember anything more of that day, or the next few after that.


	5. Face The Demons

(_**I'm glad you are all patient with me. Anyways, here is chapter five. Enjoy, because school is coming up and you might not get anything for a long while. And yeah, I know this skips some time. But, lets be honest; do you really, **__**really**__** want to go through every day of her life, living her agony step by step?**_

_**Tis short, and I apologize. The next chapter will be a direct link to this one, so count it as a cliffhanger.**_)

Toxin became part of my life; it flowed through my energon, pulsed through my spark, and lit my eyes up. My very life force became poisonous to all but myself, and my own anti toxin developed inside my energon along side the poison itself. Every day, I got more and more concentrated doses, and each dose brought about a new pain. My armor corroded, my energon coagulated almost to the point that it would no longer flow, and my energon veins split like decayed flesh beneath even the lightest of touches. Every walking step was agony; every waking moment, my pain threshold was at its max. All of this was before we started my fighting under the toxins influence. Death lurked in my shadow, and fighting to survive became my only life raft in the sea of pain.

During my after class training, Mimi would teach me how to fight with my whips and my short blades. I got good at them quite quickly, not as good as Mimi, but good enough to have off balanced him once or twice. Shadeburner was quick to make sure that I learned how to get my whips unstuck of they were caught; and taught me how to fight if whatever had them didn't let go. As for the blades, I was sliced, diced, and stabbed more times then I care to count. Some bots that would pass us by as we fought often called us beasts, because to them, the spectators, this wasn't training; it was abuse. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't; my creators loved me, and that's all that counts.

When it came time for my first public fight, I was understandably nervous. I was larger, sure, but I was still nowhere near as big as any of my smallest classmates, though the various poisons seemed to give me erratic growths. Now I reach Mimi's elbow, after a Cybertronian year of training and growth. But size wouldn't help me here; not with the organics that we were being pitted against, for public fun. We were fighting against beasts that mechs purposefully went off planet to find and bring back. There were innumerable amounts of creatures that came through here that most of our race didn't even know about. Uncle Windstrider brought back his fair share of the beasts as well.

Standing down in the pits with forty of my other classmates, I looked up at the stands. My teacher was up there, along with Nitrostreak and Shadeburner. Windstrider watched me expectantly. If you looked at his optics, you could tell he was expecting me to do well. The stands were filled with other bots watching; some were parents of other contestants, actual contestants for the later show, some non-fighters, and some of those revolutionary people, seeking world domination.

There was a hulking mech in front of us, holding a datapad to open the cages that lined this specific part of the arena. "Are you ready for some bloodsport?" he called to the crowd, which whirled with the screams of thousands of excited bots. "Are you ready to see some of these promising young fighters fight to their deaths?" More roars followed his words. "Good." He looked to us, deep blue eyes glaring at us. "Get ready for your name to be drawn; it's all randomized. The first one of you picked will fight with a rather nasty creature." He pointed at a screen set high above the pit. "I have no name for you to call me, so there is no way to get my attention once you start fighting. There is no backing out. You fight, or you die. Ether way, you give us all a good show.

"Now, if you look at the board," he continued, "You'll see all of your names on it, along with all the beasts we have here for you. The first beast is a called a Naz." Hand lowering, he played with the pad in his hand. There was a beeping noise, and a ring of light whirled around on the screen, swirling past names, until it came to a stop on mine. "Looks like the little one gets to fight." He said to the crowd. "Are you ready to watch the Naz rip this little femme into nothingness? Of course you are."

My door wings flicked nervously, as the announcer bot and my fellow students left the floor, leaving me out there. I stood, waiting somewhat impatiently as a large gate to my right made a creaking noise. It began to rise with an ominous creaking sound, and the beast behind it stirred, coming to the front of the slowly rising gate. As it stepped into the light, I remember that fleeting feeling of fear that punctured my spark.

The Naz was similar in looks to a Spinosaurus Aegyptiacus, though it was covered in thick horns and spikes all along its blue leathery hide. Naz was roughly sixty feet long and between thirty and forty foot tall. I came up to its shin, if that, as it towered far above my Mech creator. There were small green barbs on the tail tip, and some part of my processor warned me that they might be toxic. There was a gleam in its eyes as it stared at me; I was the prey here. But like most prey, I was hardly defenseless.

My hollow whips dropped down into my hands from their compartments, and my claws sunk into them, pulsing the toxins that flowed in my energon down the cord. As the gate reached its zenith, the Naz let out a bellow and charged out, jaws gaping. My whip flicked out and struck it across the face as I dodged to the side in a roll, lashing out with my other whip to pulse the toxin into its ankle on the fly. I didn't even have time to completely withdraw my whips, because the tail came slamming towards me. I had to leap again and avoid its snapping jaws, ducking under its bulk, within range of its claws hands. It reached for me, its devils claws grasping, and I turned to get out from under it, where there was no place safe.


	6. Paper Cut

(_**I'm glad you all liked the last chapter, despite the fact that it was incredibly short. Anyways, enjoy this chapter. You get to see something that would make any wing-fan cringe. This chapter will most likely be short too, but it'll do. I'm tired; school is stressing me with mid year finals coming up. Nightstrike gets her aft handed to her quite nicely, given the fact this is her first fight.**_)

Loudly in the background, the announcer bot was speaking, narrating what was happening in the ring for those who could not see as well. I was intent on staying alive, so I didn't pay any heed to the words that he spoke. I had to drone him out, and the screams of the crowd, as I dodged and fought for my life.

The Naz was vicious. After I dodged out from beneath it, Naz had turned around with an audio receptor shattering roar, managing to clip me in the right pectoral plate. It sent me stumbling in a spiral. I hit the floor, and had to scramble away as Naz struck out with its nostrils and jaws to grab me. I slipped along side its neck, reaching up as I passed to make a damaging swipe at the Naz's one reachable eye with my whips. The small barbs on the lengths of the toxic whips sunk into the soft organic flesh, tearing a small bleeding line in the bottom of the eye. My toxins spilled into the wound, and the Naz wrenched away from me with a feral scream, clawing at its face.

I needed to gather my wits; there were weak points on the organic, and I just needed to find them. The eyes were obviously one of them. With how the beast screamed, I'd say that its optics were its only way of seeing. I couldn't see any obvious ears on it, but there were two small holes along its head, and though they were small, it seemed like they were useful. At the back of its feet I could see a small area where the scales were thinner from the chains is must have wore to bind it to wherever it had previously been, and upper towards the mouth, the very corners looked like a good spot to hit. There were no scales to protect them from other things, and the flesh was malleable, easily torn.

When the Naz tossed its head in pain, I saw a flash of soft under throat, the scale-less space a creamy white-blue color. It looked like it already had scars, and it brought to my attention that its arms could reach the throat. Not the best place to ever take a trip to, I realized. That would be a last chance kind of thing. If I missed, I was dead. I could still fight with other means.

Naz seemed to recover, and was charging at me with an angry resilience. I flung my whips out and charged it back, lashing out to enclose the toxic end of the whip on its tooth. Naz didn't feel a thing, until it swung its head upwards and outwards, tugging me along with it. The toxins on the whip made it difficult for the barbed line to hold on, and I felt myself sliding down from the force of my own weight as Naz flipped its head, shaking me roughly.

When the whip slipped from Naz's tooth, the barbs slipped down and sliced open the beasts tongue, raining hot life fuel down upon me, even as the whip freed itself from the organic's face. The beast's nasty purple tinted blood bathed my armor, fetid smelling, and made me want to gag. As soon as my pedes landed on the ground, I was off and running. As the colossal beast did a full body thrash, it was in my best interest to get the pit out of there before I became a pile of sludge. I had to duck between the legs to escape

I tucked my left whip back, into its holding place, as I flicked my short blade down. When I got to its foot, the Naz stomped down, and I was just about level with the softer scaled area of behind its leg. My blade darted out and sliced into the flesh behind the beasts' leg, and another burst of hot internal fluids spurted over me. My blade struck thick and hardy bone, and the force of my slice made my blade ring as I ducked out from behind the legs.

I made an error there; I didn't watch the tail. I should have watched the tail; but I was focused on getting away from the mouth and hands. When I booked it out from under it, I didn't make it far. The thick tail slammed into me, and one of the spikes went through my thigh plating. It wasn't the stab that hurt; I was relatively numb in my legs and I didn't make so much as a peep when that happened. It was when it flung its tail; I was stuck on the barb of its tail. With the force that the Naz flung me, I went airborne.

I hit the wall with enough force to knock me for a temporary loop while the Naz nursed its little wounds. The barb in its tail had been, well, barbed, by course little hair like things that tore away at the internals of my leg. Energon dripped down my helm and into my faceplates; the taste of my life-blood mixed with the Naz's was enough to make my empty tanks curdle. My optics had offlined, leaving me blind temporarily, trying to get back to myself. My hip, the bad one, had caved in on me; the metal was warped enough to make it hard to do anything useful.

"Get up!" I heard Shadeburner howl from somewhere above me. "Get up Nightstrike!"

After I onlined my optics, I had almost wish I hadn't. The Naz was done throwing it's little fit, and was now staring at me as it crossed the space between us. I struggled blearily onto my feet, my leg numb but trying to give out. I made it to my feet only to have to dodge to the ground again because the Naz came barreling into the space I once occupied.

I regret to say that I wasn't fast enough to get away. The Naz reached out with its nasty little claws and swatted me onto the ground, where I landed face first in the dented metal. It stepped forwards, pinning my lower legs with its foot as it leaned into me. The metal frames of my shins screamed and caved, the thick armor not protecting me from anything. My main support struts screeched at the influx of invading metals, but they held under the Naz's crushing weight.

The announcer was heard over the crowd, and over the monster breathing down my neck. "The Naz has moved in for the kill! It looks like this little femme will get torn to shreds because she just wasn't fast enough! What a treat to watch!"

More of the Naz's blood dripped onto me, soaking my door wings and back as the beast lowered its head. There was a sharp crunch, and then the feeling of large teeth closing in on my door wings. They settled around the base right about the time that a dread settled into my spark.

The pain that hit me was almost as bad as the pain that Uncle Windstrider put me through during training. The Naz gave a sharp tug, pain sparking in my body. The pains temporarily made my optics go white with pain. The pain was ten trillion times that of the pain of toxins and acid that had been introduced to my system. With a jerk, a spray of my own bodily fluids, my door wings ripped free of my back, tearing a small scream from my vents. My helm went back, as I screamed, and I caught sight of the disapproving look that Uncle Windstrider gave me.

As soon as I saw the look, his optics transferred to me in the way only a teacher can to a student that I needed to get free and survive. I thrashed, pulsing my acidic venom from my energon to coat my back and the Naz's claws. The beast jerked back when it flowed onto its foot, the acrid scent of burning flesh filling the air from the acid. I gave a roar and lurched to my feet.

Pain can do marvelous things to you; but also terrible things. The pain of loosing my doors, ripped out of the nodes that hadn't been able to be made numb, drove my processor into overload. Nothing else mattered but the pain; the Naz still had my doors in its mouth, lodged in the teeth. Pains can also blurr things. In this such case, it blurred quite a bit of things, branching past the levels of pain I was taught.

I don't remember when I let my whips out, or how they managed to find purchase in the corner of the things mouth. I only remember that it had given a terrible scream as I pulsed venom load after venom load into it. It swung its head, and I ended up behind its head on its neck. While it thrashed and was slowly poisoned, I let my free hand be submerged in my toxins, and then drove it downwards towards its skull. As soon as my claws pierced its skull, the Naz went mad. It rammed itself into things, and beat at itself with its claws. Shearing holes in its flesh like I had, the Naz finished my own work for me, while I rode it like a wild bronco. It hit me with its tail, pounding dents into my back, and slammed me into walls.

When it slumped to the floor, dropping my wings, I stepped off of it and moved to watch it die. As the light faded from its optics, the beast growled at me in a feral tone. Growling back, I took my wings with a defeated sound. Its blood rolled down the flooring to commingle with mine, creating a macabre display of violently swirling colors of anger, death, and loneliness.

Around me, applause rose, and the announcer bot announced my victory. I didn't stick around to hear the words of whatever he said. I took my door wings and hobbled down into the contestant's area numbly, collapsing in the hallways. My Mimi and Papa came bustling down the hall to congratulate me, followed by Windstrider. Uncle Windstrider gave me a vaguely proud look, before the pain in my gaping wing holes got the best of me, and I was out like a broken light.


	7. Foreign Fear

(_**You all are infinitely patient, and I thank you for that. Anyways, here's the chapter. It's been a bit delayed, because I have been procrastinating in finishing my English project, and it's due soon… So, yeah. Enjoy FAA chapter 7, and all that it entails~**_

_**Much love to my brain twin, too. Hope you feel better soon Sis.**_

_**Oh, and this has been officially decided that it will flow into the Prime verse. I'll be bringing in a few extra bots, and be pretty much working it around to my favor, though it will still follow the plot line a lot… Cliffjumper will live, I'll tell you that. I like him too much~ He has a sexy voice actor~**_)

According to my internal clock, I awoke about four of my kind's days later on the well-worn and old berth that my creators and I shared. It was late at night when I awoke to no immediate pain, my optics flicking open in shock. It was dark in our room, but the door that leads to the living room was cracked open, supplying a very thin line of light. I was alone in the room; no other sounds present other then my own soft venting and the whirr of my gears. My mind flashed to the fight that I won against the Naz, and it crossed my mind that as soon as I moved, I was going to be in a world of agony.

I was laying on my front, my helm pillowed on my forearm. At my present position, there were many things that should have hurt. My pectoral plate on the right side; it had been bashed in, as had my shins. Vaguely, I remember a small hole in my chest plate, but it seemed like it was gone now. There was a dull ache through my frame from the beating I received at the end of my fight that started up when I inhaled too much. My optics shifted and focused on my hands, and I let my claws slide out. There were the dried remnants of the Naz's blood, and of my own toxins, coating the metal weapons.

The memory of the fight was vivid when I thought of it; how its blood had splattered my plates, dripped down onto me when it had sheared my wings from my back as it had pinned me. My spark shuddered in my chest; a fear of organics larger then myself settled into my chest, clenching my spark. A surge of disgust rolled across me when I thought of how the blood had rolled down my back, under my armor, into my wires. My empty tank gave a twinge in disgust, feeling ill with a terror foreign to me. My hand clenched, bringing with it a twinge of pain from my back as I made my cables work. I needed to clean the Naz blood off of my claws.

With a loud creak from the worn hinges, the door to the room slid open. My optics flicked to the door, flinching being my visor as I had to adjust to the light. Heavy footsteps moved inside, and then the door closed again, once more leaving just a crack of light. Nitrostreak stared down at me, his optics soft. Papa came closer, kneeling down next to me. "Hello little one." He said softly. His large hand came up and rested on mine, giving it a soft squeeze. "Good to see that you are online finally."

"Papa…" I rasped softly. My mouth was dry, so I flooded it with a slickening oil to keep my mouthparts moving smoothly. I let one half of my mouth quirk up in a half smile at him. "What's the damage?"

He smiled back, optics crinkling. "Most of its been repaired, Nightstrike." He said. "You brought in a lot of credits with your fight; you brought them a blood sport that not many will soon forget, especially for your first fight." He said. Papa's other hand came up and gently smoothed over my helm, tickling my antennas. "You did _good_, my little fighter." His praise surprised me. I had screamed; I had violated rule number three of the rules of pain.

"I violated the third rule, though." I pointed out faintly.

The dark green of his armor reflected faintly from the glow of my visor. "Be that as it may, you fought through the pain." Nitrostreak said. "That is all we ask. Your Uncle is proud, youngling." He clicked. "You fought a very nasty organic. But, luckily, you'll never face another Naz again."

I flexed my feet, feeling the cables move. My hand twitched where his covered it. "What do you mean?" I questioned.

"That Naz, according to Windstrider, was the last Naz on their home planet. He hasn't found any more; it took him a long time to find that one anyway."

"Oh…" I clicked. "Isn't it frowned upon to make a species extinct?"

The thick green armor of his shoulders lifted up and then dropped in a shrug. "I don't know, and don't particularly care." He said. Running his thumb over my cheek softly, Nitrostreak's optics roamed my frame for a moment. "I see you are starting to move again." He said. A frown tugged his mouth. "The credits you earned were enough to fix all of your major injuries, sweet spark, but…" Papa trailed off.

"But what?" I asked softly. I shifted my arms under me, ignoring the soft pains of my shoulders. When I tensed my hydraulics, pushing my top half up, I collapsed again as a wave of agony washed over where my wings would be.

I thrashed with a keen, grimacing. Nitrostreak pressed me down gently, holding me until the convulsive thrashes stilled. He crooned softly to me and lifted me without ever touching my back. Back on my stomach, he propped my helm on my arm again. "Don't try and move yet." He said. "We don't have enough credits to hire a medic good enough to handle the sensitive wirings in your door wings yet."

A rattling vent shook my chassis. "How much more?" I asked tightly. "How much more do we need?"

Nitrostreak tilted himself further down so he could look me in the optics. He vented harshly, hot air blowing over my face, smelling faintly of the low-grade energon we all usually ingested. "If we don't purchase any energon for ourselves any time soon, then, with the approaching fights for your Mimi and myself, we have enough for fifteen percent of the price to be paid off." He said. "You wont have your wings for a long time, sweet spark." He said softly.

My optics clenched together. The pain that had sent me into that spasm was going to be present for a long time. Credits weren't easy to get down here, and good medics were expensive. That was why my hip hadn't been able to be repaired… Biting my lips softly, I opened my optics to meet his guilty gaze.

"I'm sorry, sweetspark." He said softly, stroking my cheek. "I'm sorry we cant do more."

I swallowed and moved my hand to cover his as my shoulder twinged. "It's alright, Papa." I said. "When I can bear the pain in my back better, I can help earn the credits needed for my wings to be reattached."

"No." I heard Mimi say. His frame slipped through the creaky door as it opened, and Shadeburner stepped into the room, shutting the door with a firm click. "No." Mimi repeated again. "You wont be fighting without your door wings."

"I can get over it, Mimi." I protested. "I can handle the pain, once I get used to it."

Mimi approached and settled down next to Papa, making the larger mech scoot over with a grunt. "No." he repeated again, firmly. "I had a door wing wrenched out when I was older then you; it had to be relocated, since it hadn't been fully torn out. The pain from just a dislocated wing was enough to drive me nearly mad. I tried to get used to it, and it didn't work. I couldn't fight, I couldn't train, I could hardly walk across the floor without writhing in pain." He said. "I'm not going to put you through this. I've already had it out with your Uncle, and until you are fixed, you wont be fighting or training."

I curled my lip slightly. "I _can_ do it, Mimi." I insisted. "You have to trust me; I managed to put aside the pain to kill the Naz, didn't I?"

"Adrenaline Nanites." He hissed softly. The blue glow of his visor settled over me heavily, and from the shade of the glow, I guessed he was upset. "Listen, Nightstrike, it's because we love you that we wont let you fight. We don't want you killed." His knuckles came out and brushed my arm affectionately, rubbing the black plates with equally black plates gently.

I fluttered my optics closed softly, briefly. "I know, Mimi. I love you too." I said. "But I want to help. It's not right for me to sit around like a noble while you and Papa fight for credits to repair me. I _can_ fight Mimi. Give me some time; I'll be up and moving around like I did with wings."

Mimi sighed and pressed his helm to mine. "You have your sire's stubbornness." He sighed. "And mine too." He glanced into my visor with his own, staring me down.

My antenna fluttered guiltily for arguing with my creators. "Be that as it may, Mimi, now that I have proven that I can fight for my credits, neither of you is obligated legally to provide me what I need." I said.

Nitrostreak gave me a sharp pinch on my antenna, making me give a short grunt. "Don't take us lightly, brat." He barked sharply. "We are your creators; we love you. It has nothing to do with obligations, or slag like that." His finger soothed over the spot he pinched in a gentle way. "Just because you can fight now, doesn't mean that your aren't our little sparkling." He said, his hand moving away. Nitrostreak gave me a look that said he meant business. "You aren't fighting until your carrier and I gather enough credits to make sure your wings are reattached _correctly_."

Mimi lifted his helm with a sigh. "You won't be fighting until you are fixed, and we will enforce it, Nightstrike. Do you understand me, my little femme?" he rested his hands on my back. "I need to check your nodes. They were infected while you were out, little one. The Naz's blood reacted badly with your energon. Without your wings attached, fighting is going to bring the increased chance of Infection." He said. Under his breath, I heard him mumble something, and then in a louder tone, he addressed me. "Do you understand?" he asked again. "No fighting."

"Yes, Mimi. I understand." I agreed. That didn't mean that I wouldn't train while they weren't here, however. If I was still susceptible to infections, then my tolerance and energon toxicity level needed to be brought up. Lounging around our home would give me plenty of time to play with my poisons, especially when my creators weren't around.

I swallowed as Shadeburner smoothed his hand gently over my back. I winced as his clawed fingertips gently probed around the nodes, checking them over. "Well, they've stopped leaking." He murmured softly. There was a scraping feeling, and my body tensed in pain. A brief whine escaped me. "Sorry little one."

"It's alright, Mimi." I gritted out from clenched denta. I shifted away slightly, flexing my hands. "Can I take a wash when you are finished?" I asked.

"Not yet." Mimi responded. "You need to rest a bit more, before we venture out to the public wash racks." He said. Shade burner prodded a bit more while Nitrostreak got up, heading around out of my line of sight. My audio's picked up on my Papa getting into the berth. The sound of something transforming followed the shifting of Shadeburner's arm. "I need to add a little more disinfecting spray. It's going to hurt, unfortunately."

I nodded, antennas flaring up. "Alright." He didn't give me a chance to brace myself, and by extent, my body jerked with pain. The disinfectant flooded my nodes, battling against the venom in my body before it settled in and worked along side the poisons. "Ouch…" I groused softly.

Mimi chuckled. "Sorry short stuff." He whispered. I peered up at his visor, and from the reflective surface, I could see my nodes. With the disinfectant working, I could see the savaged nodes bubbling and fizzing nastily. I focused on it, and I realized that the metal was torn, jagged, but it looked like it had been sanded down while I had been in my recharge state. I sighed. My nodes were probably what would cost the most.

Mimi finished, and then he and Papa shifted me over very gently. When there was enough room for Shadeburner to fit on there with me sandwiched in the middle, Nitrostreak gently lifted me so I rested on his arm between them. Even if I had grown larger, the two fighters that I was sandwiched between were just simply massive next to me.

I let my helm rest on his arm with a soft sigh. My back bubbled painfully, making the plates twitch irritably. Mimi settled down in front of me, looping an arm over Papa's waist. Papa did the same, leaving me caged in a warm dome between them, though he tugged a thin sheet that acted as our blanket up over us. The dark gray material settled over their frames, leaving me in a tent.

"Good recharge, little fighter." Nitrostreak hummed. He kissed my helm softly, clicking, as his chin ventured down my helm, pressing. I twitched faintly, as he used his chin to press a small point on the back of my neck. My world spiraled into black, and I entered a forced stasis to rest.

"Sweet dreams, little darling." Mimi purred softly. "We'll be back before you wake."


	8. Explosive Results

(_**I know I should have probably update OITS first, but between the chatting of me and my Sis, SeekerLuna, we came up with an incredibly funny idea, and it has inspired this chapter. I don't know who first invented it, but I'm taking the general idea and modifying it~ Anyways, this chapter is mostly a time passer, and a plot progression chapter. Enjoy; its short, I know, but it gets us moving along.**_

_**Also, I kinda have the urge to try and get FAA caught up to OITS in chapter count. I don't know why, but I have the urge. Not too sure if I should do it though; give me your input, please?**_)

By the time we had thirty two percent of my surgery saved up to be paid off, time had passed and things had changed. Because I was forbidden from fighting, I became adept at betting in the ring and at hacking the betting pools via wireless communications. There was a trick to this whole betting pool; you bet in little increments for both sides. Since I had grown up watching most of the fighters fight, I knew who was good and who was not, unlike the bots that came just to watch them fight and to bet every so often. You bet most of your credits on the one you were sure would win, a few on the contender, and if it was going as you predicted, you could hack the betting pool and change your credits, or anyone else's for that matter, around. No one ever checked the pools, and it was easy enough to cover my tracks, so I never got caught when I shifted things for my favor.

It's cheating, yes, but I was desperate. Desperation can lead to many things, and I'm sure that anyone who understands what it feels like to lose a wing can sympathize.

Now, just because I was forbidden from fighting didn't mean that I didn't train or practice my toxins. For the first few months, I had to re-teach myself how to walk. Door wings are a big part of balance for those of us with the appendages. Once I got to walking around normally again, I started working out cables, pressing myself to the point I would seize in pain. When the seizures ended, I would start again, until the pain could be thrust into the back of my processor. Then I would move to something else that brought upon the seizures, and work that area too. Now, I can move normally for the most part. If I raise my arms too far, my back will seize up, and it will cause a spasm. However, if someone touches the raw nodes, it drops me too my knees in pain.

Amidst other changes, I grew a little bit. After all, one Cybertronian year had passed, and our kind, when on our home planet, grows rather slowly. My wings were now a little too small for my frame, but I didn't care. They would catch up with my growth in due time. I now stood just a little bit taller then Nitrostreak's elbow joint, which was about a foot and a half higher then Mimi's elbow joint, from when I fought the Naz.

Speaking of the nasty organic Naz; Uncle Windstrider had multiple vials of Naz venom, something that he had running in his own person type of venom, and he gave me most of them. The little greenish barbs at the end of the tail, none of which had touched me while we fought, turned out to actually hold a rather nasty toxic coat. The Naz's toxin attacks the wires that connect our electrical impulses to our limbs and reverses them for a short time before killing them entirely; meaning that if you tried to move your right hand, your left would move instead, and then if you didn't get an antitoxin, you would lose the use of your limb all together. So, what is a bored youngling to do all alone in her small housing unit while her creators are out fighting for credits? Play with poisons and create new volatile toxins, of course.

A small and unused storage room had been given to me for me to craft my toxins while I was stuck at home. That's where I was at the time; in my room, mixing Naz venom with a corrosive acid that eats through the armor plating and then remains dormant in the rusted remains until someone touches it, reactivating and infecting whatever touches the armor. So far, it kept fizzing and dissolving itself, which, with the corrosive acid, it wasn't a surprise.

Holding my hand over the poison dish in frustration, I dribbled my own unfiltered toxin blend down into it, and the fizzing stopped almost immediately. Focusing my optics on it, I hummed and scrawled in on an extremely old datapad that held all of my poisons notes. Pressing a button on the side, an icon appeared in the corner of the screen, and I began to speak as it recorded me. "Trial twelve; it would appear that both the Naz's poison and the acid don't blend together by themselves. In a moment of frustration, I put my own venom into the sizzling mess. Lo and behold, it all stopped, and blended in with my poison. Now, I need to test this new mix to see if it works." I reported to the datapad. "However, after my last mishap with the poison that causes delusions, I know I need to make an antidote before I commence testing." I amended dryly.

After WindStrider had found out that I was playing with poisons, he gave me a whole slew of ones he used when he was starting out and all of them still ran in trace amounts through his energon lines. One of them had been a toxin that had the same effects as a hallucinogenic drug; only this 'drug' was fatal. Not only did you see things that weren't there, it also turned your processor to putty after three days. Once your processor was out, it traveled to the spark, causing a cardiac arrest that was almost always fatal. I had managed to get myself with the poison, and unsurprisingly, it had been difficult to focus on anything long enough to get the antitoxin made. So, after learning my lesson well, I've made antitoxins for the toxins before I use them.

The antitoxin was easily made within the span of an hour or so, and I found myself holding the needle to inject the first dose of the poison into my energon lines. Given the fact that Uncle Windstrider's own venom has small and trace amounts of this very same kind of toxin in it, my reaction shouldn't have been severe. I was still speaking into the datapad, so that I could play back and listen to my previous notes.

"The poison mix has turned a vile shade of purple, and it is ready for injection. Commencing in three, two, one, and now." As soon as the needle punctured my energon lines and began to pump the poison into my blood stream, I found my control over my hands lessening at an astronomically fast pace. When I pulled a needle out, a little bit of energon dripped onto my armor, and the metal melted painlessly for me for a short time, and then stopped altogether. "Amazing; not even half a minute passed and I can hardly control my hands in order to load up the antitoxin." I vented happily.

A knock at the door of my closet made me drop my injector before I could even get the needle into the pool of antitoxin. I gave a grunt and reached down for it, clumsily trying to grasp it. "Come in." I answered the knock, craning my helm over to peer at the door. The needle rolled between my fingers, and I gave an irritated trill.

Windstrider pulled the door open, blinking at me in a slightly perplexed expression. "What are you up to, Nightstrike?" His voice rumbled in the small space. He knelt and scooped up the needle that I was fumbling with, leaning up and over me to snag the antitoxin. "You didn't draw the antitoxin before you tried out your poison." He chastised me.

"You forget, Uncle Windstrider," I clicked and offered out my arm for him to inject the cure when he drew it into the injector, "I only have one injector for everything that I do."

He jabbed me with the needle, bypassing my arm and just jabbing it into my chest plate. "True. Perhaps, since the day of your birth is approaching, you might get one as a gift." Windstrider hinted to me with a half lopsided smile. The antivenin burned in my chest plate, spreading quickly through my body. It left a trail of hot burning feelings across the inside of my body, and left my chest all tingly.

"True." I smiled, taking my injector back once he was done with the needle. I took a few moments to wiggle my hands, getting the wires used to going back into normal mode, where they moved with their coordinated body parts. "So what are you doing here, Windstrider?"

"Visiting my least favorite niece of course." He drawled impishly. "Kidding; you're my only niece, so of course you're the favorite. Anyways, I was stopping by to see how you're doing while being cooped up for this past year. I haven't seen much of you because I've been out procuring a vast supply of the nastiest organics I could find in the galaxy, and found myself overdue for a visit." He clicked at me. "Good thing I stopped by too. You needed a bit of help there."

My antenna's flicked up slightly, and I groused at him. "I was doing fine; you startled me into dropping the injector."

He patted my helm, smoothing down my antennas. "Whatever makes you recharge well at night." Windstrider hummed and looked over my works. "I see you've been busy."

My chest started to tingle slightly, and I rubbed at it gingerly. "Yeah. I've come up with a fairly good amount of poisons so far, but they're all still works in progress. I don't have access to the vast amounts of acids and toxins that you do, Uncle 'Strider."

Windstrider let of a sharp whistle. "Ah, that reminds me. I got some new acids, and I thought you might like to have them. I don't need them, but it would give you something new to play with." As I swiveled in my chair to look at him face to face, I saw him rummaging through his subspace.

I felt my optics light up, and my antennas perked hopefully. "Really?" I chirped excitedly. "New acids? I like new acids." I said. "So what type of acids?" I asked lightly, shifting my chest plates against the uncomfortable tingling.

"Nothing too bad yet; you aren't ready for the kinds of acid I use." He said. Procuring a long box out of his subspace, Windstrider handed it to me. "You have your normal melting acids, your slow corrosive acids, and then a few new ones that I'm going to let you discover the use of." He said. His optics focused on my chest for a second, and he hummed. "Is something wrong with your chest plates? They're twitching."

"Not that I'm aware of." I answered. "Thanks for the acids, by the way." I set them on my desk.

Windstrider knelt in front of me again, clicking. "Open up, kiddo. Let me take a peek; I don't think I hit anything vital when I injected you, but its better to be safe then sorry. I've done this to myself, and your father too, enough times to know how to treat it; so fixing my niece shouldn't be too hard."

I hummed and nodded. "True." There was a mechanical sound from within my chest as I disengaged the locking mechanism, and then with a soft whir, my chest plates parted, letting him see my protoform, and inside my chest cavity. I shuddered when the cool air invaded my body, twittering softly.

"Sorry little one." He said. "I know the cold never feels good inside." Windstrider's hand came up, and he began shifting things around gently inside of me. I trilled softly when he brushed a ticklish wire. It probably comes off as weird to some bots for their own family members to go rooting around in their chests, but I suppose this is what makes my family different from other families. I shuddered when he brushed something. "Well, good news is I didn't damage anything." He clicked. "And another bit of good news; your body is starting to mature. You're now officially in your young adult frame." He clicked. "Even if you are a bit smaller then you should be; but you'll continue to grow, even after you're in your full adult frame."

Trilling softly, I couldn't really see over my armor to peer into my chest. "How do you know?"

Something squished in my chest when he poked at it gently, and I flinched slightly at the odd feeling. "Your energon sacks, or your 'breasts' for feeding future sparklings, have started to develop."

I pursed my lips. "I never used those to feed when I was a sparkling."

"Of course not." Windstrider scoffed. "Your Mimi isn't a femme. Only the older model femmes have these; the newer models coming out don't use these as a feeding method. Truthfully, these are a much better method for this, and much more efficient." He said.

"Oh?" I asked. When his hands withdrew, after replacing whatever he had moved, I shut my chest plates and relocked them. "What do you mean?"

Rocking onto the heels of his feet, Windstrider's blue optics focused intently on my face. "What I mean, is that there is a system inside of you that produces its own energon. No one knows why the older model femmes have them; some scientists, like myself, call it a natural phenomenon that we wont ever be able to explain. Anyways, this system will create energon to feed your sparkling whenever you have one." He grinned suddenly. "And 'theoretically', you should be able to hijack the system and rewire it to produce energon for your body as well as for sparklings."

I hummed. "Well, that's one more thing I can toy with while I'm offlining of boredom." I drawled.

He patted my helm and then stood up. "Indeed!" he said. "But you have to be careful; if it produces too much, your systems will be overrun with it." Windstrider stretched, his light colored armor shifting over his cables.

I tilted my head, considering my options with a trill. "Can't I just store it somewhere?" I asked him.

With a knowing glint in his optics, Windstrider stepped back, opening the door to leave my little lab. "We'll have to see what you come up with, wont we?" I pursed my lips and sighed, turning back to go look through my poisons for the time being. As I heard the door being closed, Windstrider spoke once more. "Oh, and whatever you do with those acids, don't mix vial number twelve with vial number fifteen. It creates a rather explosive result."


	9. The Addiction

(_**Hey, thanks for reviewing. Sorry I haven't updated; I've been sick with Pneumonia…In fact, I'm still really sick with it… And, I may or may not have just killed my new laptop, so, I'm really kind of moody as I write too you with my old clunker. I really want to cry right now, so whatever happens in this chapter happens. I hate to let my mood dictate my writings, but I need a hug, and no one is here to let me sob on their shoulder. I'm not looking forwards to the morning, when my Mother starts yelling at me for however the hell I broke it. She always does… but it's 'cause I always end up breaking the nice things she gets me, no matter how hard I try not too…**_

_**I'm sorry. I'm being a depressing little bitch. Here, enjoy if you can. Sorry if it turns out short. Its kind of a filler, 'cause I just need to go cry. Sorry for the disappointment… I seem so full of these lately… If its twisted, it's 'cause I'm in a twisted mood.**_)

Half a year has passed for us here in Tyger Pax, and we have enough to pay off forty five percent of my wings. It's been a slow six months, very few fights, and what fights there have been haven't brought in many credits. But, like all things, there is a cause to the effect. There's been a group of bots going around stirring up what most of the fighters here consider trouble. They've already amassed quite a lot of followers, about five thousand strong so far. The group, a group of thirteen, have started calling themselves the Thirteen Primes, sent by Primus himself so they claim. According to their blasphemy, as NitroStreak says, Primus is abhorred with the fighting and the useless death on our planet, and so thus he has sent us saviors to guide us into the age of peace and prosperity.

Bunch of cockamamie slag, if I say so myself.

Oh, and officially, I managed to make my spark stop. I offlined myself for about a minute, before WindStrider got my spark to ignite and beat again. In six months, I had made myself some various poisons, including Zix, a hallucinogenic poison that causes phantom pain, loss of coordination, distortion of reality, and, after about four days, supposedly death. XED, which is what I offlined myself with accidentally, causes excruciatingly painful seizures, and after the long episodes of body spasms, your spark stops. I still have the dent in my helm from Uncle Windstrider, after he got me up and coherent of course. I also have another dent from him from when I got myself stuck on Salus. Salus is a paralytic neurotoxin that leaves you paralyzed indefinitely. My Mimi and Uncle found me three days after I failed to inject myself.

With the whole creating energon for my own body project, so far I've managed to get my system to work for me, with a _lot_ of help from Uncle Windstrider. However, it only produces about two very small cubes a day, so I've left them in my subspace, and have rerouted it with my uncle's help, to be able to funnel the energon there, as well as remain hooked to my energon sacks. So far, I have, in the sense of normal sized cubes, Six normal cubes stored in my subspace, as well as an extra half. Now, I just need to figure out how to funnel this energon into my systems, as well as being able to keep the poisons in my bloodstream out of the cubes so that I can share them with family when we need them.

So far, no luck with the latter part. Its been getting harder to do things now; things are making me angrier easier when they don't go my way.

And it's not the only thing I'm not having any luck with.

Clicking angrily as I stared at my failed toxin, I tried in vain to figure out what exactly I did wrong. In essence, it had, well, exploded. All over. All over, as in all over the ceiling, the walls, my equipment, my gear, myself, and on the corner of my datapad. That's not really what bothers me though. _It's the fact that the toxin, failed or not, should have some sort of effect on my fragging body_! Giving it a frustrated sound, I kicked my stool back, stood up, and kicked it back under my desk in a fit of anger, stubbing my toe and making a sharp pain shoot up my spinal strut. No matter what pain tolerance you had, stubbed toe plates always hurt. This was my fiftieth test try on this specific poison; getting a paralyzing toxin that would slowly turn the spark into a puddle of goop with little to no pain, the name of the specific blend called the Yfidrus. I've been up for four days continuously working on this poison, venturing forth only to refuel and to dump my waste tanks.

"I'll fragging clean it later." I growled, throwing my hands up into air. Turning on my heel, my antenna's flat against my helm, I stalked into the main part of our home, spotting my Mimi sitting on our couch, reading a worn datapad. "Fragging impossible, frag it all, it wont fragging work with me, and no fragging thing I do can make the fragging thing fragging work like how I fragging want the stupid fragging thing to fragging work, frag it all to the fragging pits."

I needed something… Something… what do I need!? I need _something_, frag it all!

"That's a lot of frags." Shadeburner clicked from the couch. "What has you in such a tizzy, little one?" He looked up at me, peering at me from behind his visor. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes!" I vented loudly with a growl. "I know you fragging heard me, I'm not going to fragging explain it again."

He cast me a sharp look, chastising me over the bond. "I asked a question. I did not ask for you to snap at me." I growled at him. "Growling at me is going to get you swatted." Shadeburner warned. "I don't know what put you in such a foul mood, but I'm not going to stand for it. Go clean off at the wash racks, you are a mess."

"I know!" I roared. My empty wing nodes twinged with pain, a motion that had become familiar. If my wings had been present on my body, they would have been angled upwards in an angry motion. "And that's why I'm upset!"

"Because you're a mess."

"Because my toxin test failed again!"

Shadeburner flipped the page in his datapad, flicking his optics to me. "Then fix it." He said pointedly. "Go over your notes, but calm down first. No one thinks when they're angry."

I growled at him again, balling my smaller fists angrily. "I've tried," I said in a forced calm, "Every fragging thing I do, I mess it up, and even if its fragging perfect, it still fragging explodes on me."

"You aren't calm." He explained softly. "Thus, its not going to work." He offered. "I'm no scientist, but I do know that it's not the rushed and angry scientist or poisoner that discovers what they want. It's the one that's working calmly to achieve his goal."

My armor ruffled up in my frustration. "I don't like being angry, and I don't like this frustration." I growled. "How do I get rid of it?"

"Bring something else to mind?"

"_Like what?_" I pressed irritably. "Like. WHAT."

Shadeburner cast me another warning look, "This is your second warning. Watch your tone, youngling. You've been getting snappish more often, have you noticed that?"

"No." I ground out shortly. "I haven't noticed…"

"Well you have." Shadeburner groused at me.

My claws dug into my palm wires, sending a small bolt of pain through my systems, clearing my head like a drug. My optics dilated, realization funneling into my mind. I hadn't had a whole lot of pain in my systems since my injury, and such a little pain like that shouldn't have registered with my pain receptors. Well, not like I used to. Pain had become my everything; my friend, my comrade, my teacher, my tormentor. Essentially, I suppose, it was like withdrawals. Pain and fighting is who I am; I _need_ it now. It takes away my aggression, my frustration, and it leaves me clear headed. It's how I was trained, to think through pain. I've become dependant on it, and my little tests didn't provide nearly enough for my current levels of withdrawals.

Shadeburner watched my realization with a slight sense of confusion over the bond, the feeling present in the malleable metal of his mouth. "Did you find what's been making you so irritated?"

With my realization having rushed through my processor, dragging most of my frustration with it like some sort of demented teenage mood swing, I found myself drained and tired. Leaning on the wall of our abode, I let loose a long sigh. "I need pain, Mimi." I admitted softly. "I need it."

Patting the couch, Mimi offered it too me. "You've become dependant on it." He stated.

I didn't take the offer. Instead, I dug my claws further into my palms, letting the calming rush of pain soothe my troubles, dragging me down and letting me think. "Yes." I answered.

"I see." He closed his datapad down, abandoning it in favor of cradling his helm in both hands while he thought. Shadeburner's door wings fluttered flightily. "And your tests and toxins can't help this."

"Not so far, no…" I said. "I need to fight, Mimi. I'm a fighter. I need the violence. The pain. It's who you all raised me to be." I said.

"No," he said firmly. "No, you don't." he said. "You don't need to fight. Not until you have your wings back."

"_FRAG MY WINGS!_" I exclaimed loudly. "I _need_ to fight, Mimi. I need it. I haven't fought or formally trained in a year and a half. We could have already had my wings paid off and fixed if I was fighting with you!"

"And I said no, NightStrike." Mimi barked sharply at me. "You aren't fighting, and that's fragging final, you hear me?"

I growled at him, my frustration edging back into my mind. "The frag I'm not! How about I rip your wings off, then _you_ can be fussed over and treated like an invalid sparkling! When you progress into my situation, you'll be ready to fight too!"

"Drop it." He growled deeply at me, the sound bass and rumbling. Mimi never growled at me.

My armor flattened and I took a step back, metaphorically and literally. I crossed a line there. "I didn't mean it Mimi…" Antenna flattened themselves on my helm, and I took another step back.

"No," he groused. "You meant it. And the worst part? I understand _why_. You want to fight? Fine. You'll go back into training under Windstrider. If he finds that you can't handle it, then you come back here and you wont bring it up again. At all." The warning was clear. "Windstrider wont be back from EVT6669 until the next month. Until he gets here to over see your training, I suppose I'll do it from here. We start now."

Mimi stood up, towering angrily, chattering to himself lowly in the fighting arena dialect of Cybertronian. I didn't approach. He still wasn't happy with me. Mimi hadn't ever hurt me intentionally or out of anger, but angry mechs are angry mechs, carrier or not. I didn't fancy getting a smack over my aft for bad mouthing him. It wasn't necessarily painful, but more degrading. I hadn't had a smack since I was able to fully comprehend the fighting that I saw. "Come here, Nightstrike."

"We can start later. I interrupted your reading."

"For frags sake, Nightstrike." He grunted at me. "I'm angry at you, and at myself for not realizing that this could happen. But, however angry I am, I wont strike you out of anger, all right? I'm not a monster." He said.

"No smacks?" I asked tentatively.

There was a pause, and then he chuckled tiredly, scrubbing his hand over his face. "No smacks." He agreed.

Mimi stalked towards me, and I lowered myself on my knees, not sure what he was going to do. "Alright. Lets get your pain tolerance checked. I'm not as good as your uncle, but I know the spots that hurt." He paced around me. "From the time we start training until the time I decide we stop, I'm your teacher, your friend, your comrade, your tormenter, and the keeper of your own personal hell."

"I know, Mimi." I said, tilting my helm down as I waited for the sweet blinding clarity of pain. I heard him loose his whip, and waited for the crack.

Mimi struck fast, sinking his thick claws into the side of my ribs with one hand, cracking his whip across my wing nodes almost too fast for me to feel it or hear it. The pain followed in a flash of clarity, and I nearly sagged in relief, waiting for more to come, welcoming my old friend back with open arms.


	10. Teach The Faith

(_**Thanks for your support, everyone~ Well, my laptop is shot. However, we can get it fixed. However, yet again, it's going to be a week or so until HP sends us the necessary parts we need. My aunt has kindly allowed me to use her laptop, however, I am limited in my use of it. The screen, with which I use to see, is LITERALLY the size of my hand. Its like, six inches long, by four inches tall.**_

_**It sucks, but it's a computer. Anyways, enjoy. We're just jumping along here, and now we get to see my rendition of the thirteen primes next chapter~ Enjoy chapter 10~**_

_**Question: Is this story too dark for all of you? Because I've noticed that the number of folks who started out reviewing has dropped a lot. If it is too twisted, never fear, eventually it'll straighten out a little bit before it plunges back into the dark torment that I currently enjoy writing~**_)

The cables beneath my back shredded beneath the spiked chain that sunk into my armor. One sliced across the node of my missing wings, and I was almost lost to the blessed and well loved pain. When the chain finished its loop around my chest, I forced myself to grab it and pull sharply, nearly tugging it out of the hands of my opponent. However, the mech holding the casting end of the chain was twice my size. Within the second that it took him to pull the chain back into his grip, I found myself unbound by gravity for a short time. The chain tightened in its biting embrace, and I flew towards him.

Letting go of the chain, I braced myself to hit him head on. My claws slid out, a mild acid filling them, and sunk deep into his armor once I hit. His lip plates parted, and he roared savagely in my face. Pouring the acid in my claws into his abdominal plattings, I felt myself torn away just as quickly as I hit him. The feeling of weightlessness took me once more, and then my optics saw stars as I was crashed helm first into the metal ground. Not being allowed to rest and gather my thoughts even for a split second, I was yanked back into the air.

My own whips dropped from my wrists, and I managed to get two cracks across his face before distance became a problem. His foot came up and met with my stomach, and my body crumpled around the enormous pede as velocity caught up with me from being swung around like a toy. The organs beneath the plate ruptured, energon flooding my mouth, as the mech shoved me back. The chain let go, tearing furrows in my armor as it tore back from me. His laughter mocked me.

I hit the ground rolling, and ended up laying on my front, heaving out little ruptured bits of my internal organs and energon. Struggling onto my hands and knees, I hurried to get up. The same foot that kicked me slammed down on my spinal strut and hips. I hit the mat flat again, the pede grinding into me. My spinal strut groaned, creaked, and then my hips were the first to cave. With sickening snaps, my legs were rendered useless as my pelvis shattered through my outer armor and protoform.

His foot continued to grind down into me, mashing my organs and using the bits of my own armor that had impaled me to essentially tear me apart from the inside out. My vents heaved with chokes and gasps, and I purged up a part of one of my storage tanks.

"Enough, Blackwind." Windstrider stopped the fight. "She did well, but not good enough. She's almost there, Blackwind. Almost." He sighed. "But almost is not good enough. Fix her up and start all over again, now." He ordered.

As soon as Windstrider had uttered a syllable, Blackwind had stepped off of me, leaving me untouched. At the order, Blackwind dropped down next to me, gently rolling me over. There was a sorrow in his dark navy optics as he sat down and drew me into his lap, the savage nature he had when he fought was forgotten. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He rasped softly to me. "I'm so sorry… I don't want to hurt my friends…"

It was always the same. Since Windstrider got me back into training, he's incorporated Blackwind into it as well. Blackwind was a student from the age group I was supposed to be in, and was as good at fixing those he broke as he was at breaking the bots he breaks. But, Blackwind is a medic at spark. He doesn't want to fight, and he doesn't want to hurt. However, he's slagging good at what he does, and what he does is not very nice. He's a little slow in the processor some times, like a sparkling. But, considering half his processor was literally beaten out of his skull by me at the beginning of our training when he underestimated me, it's little wonder why. Processors can't be grown back; so he has to remain slow for the rest of his days.

Some days with him are worse then others. Some days he can seem almost like a youngling, innocent and care free. Other days, he's even more ruthless then he normally is. I don't know what I damaged exactly, but he forgets things a lot, and his moods can shift at the drop of a needle. Demonstrated with my fights, he drops from a killing rage into sorrow faster then a bot can drop into stasis. Sometimes, it seems as if he's all there, because he'll say something that any sane bot would, and then he turns around and says that I'm his friend. Truthfully, eventually I think, I will take pity on him and end his life. I know I wouldn't want to live like he is; I would want my own life to end if I wasn't able to be fixed.

Its been another half a year since I began fighting with Windstrider again, training, while my creators worked double time to collect the credits all the way to seventy percent for the repairing and reattachment of my severed wings. Pain tolerance was easily reached again with the help of Mimi and Papa before Windstrider was back, and then I was tossed into the ring with Blackwind. Windstrider says that the purpose of my continuous beatings was for me to fight through the pain and the injuries, to shove them back and fight until I cant move, and then to spit at the feet of my foe even when I can no longer defend myself. He says that if I kill my opponent, its even better, but its not the purpose of this training yet.

So far, I haven't been able to last as long. My armor is thick, my armor is strong, but I'm not yet big enough for my armor not to cave in to a kick from a foot that's the size of my entire upper body and that has the force of twelve Naz stomps behind it. So, more often then not, I find myself where I am now with Blackwind treating only the injuries that he himself caused upon my body. With the rate that I'm going, I could reach the stage within the hour, or within the next year or so.

As soon as I managed to stop coughing and expelling organ chunks, I waved him off. "I'm not your friend, you hunk of metal." I half joked and half choked, my voice ringing in the training arena that was strangely empty, save for the three of us here fighting. "Fix my innards later. You're only going to mash them again and again." I was already rerouting my energon lines to stop the energon from going to my ruined organs, instead funneling through the good cables left. "Set my hips, weld them, and then help me up." I vented.

"I don't have any anesthetic." He murmured. "I can't numb the pain." He apologized. His hands went to my hips, and he began shoving my pelvic bits back under my armor, digging large hands into me as he repaired me. "You're my friend." He said. "I don't have a lot of friends." He droned softly. "And neither do you. So you can be my friend, and we can both get stronger if we help each other."

"Pit fighters don't have friends." I told him, spitting out a glob of acidic energon. "We have pain. Pain is the closest friend we'll ever have." I said. "And I don't know why I tell you this. You wont remember it tomorrow."

"It takes being friends first in order to be mates with someone, like your creators." He whirred softly. There was a slurp from my hip as he shoved the welder inside of me and welded my main frame together. My legs snapped back into position, crackling hard in the sockets as he moved my legs back into their normal places. "Your Mimi told me so. I remember."

"Will you remember tomorrow?" I clicked.

"Yes." He said in a determined tone. He rolled me over gently, cradling my helm in his hand, and set to work fixing up my armor and my hips in the back. "I will. I'll make sure I remember. You are my friend."

"I'm not your friend." I hissed lowly. Behind my visor, my optics flashed with the irritation that started to brew inside my spark.

"Sure you are." He chirped.

"No, I'm not." I said. He simply trilled softly at me and continued to work gently on me. "You know, Blackwind, if it weren't for the fact that you are still useful, I'd end your miserable half-existence now."

He patted my aft briefly in a friendly manner, seeming to ether ignore my growl, or failing to even hear it. "You wont kill me. Friends don't kill friends."

"Friends don't leave other friends half dead in the processor, and yet I did it to you." I pointed out, huffing. "Want me to finish what I started?"

His hands stilled for a minute, and then resumed working on me. "Someday," he intoned deeply, a flash of the mech he used to be shining through, "I hope you do. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. I would do the same honor for you, my friend."

"I'm not your friend, Blackwind. Get it through your fragging thick helm." I snapped.

Blackwind didn't say anything more to me until I was finished and fixed, and then he simply informed me of his success once more. Pushing my arms up underneath me, I got to my hands and knees. My metal organs were pulped inside me as usual, and they made nasty sounds when I moved. Venting in harshly, I clawed to my pedes, balancing as my hips recalibrated themselves. The agony cleared my head, and I smiled, pulling the pain in and tucking it deep within me to keep my processor as clear feeling as I could.

I wasn't given time for the recalibrations to take effect. "Begin." Windstrider barked from the sidelines. "You know what to do, NightStrike. Do it, and tear him to shreds while you are at it. It bores me to see you pulped each time."

Blackwind met my spinning kick with his shin, and I used my velocity to whip my whips out in a blinding arc of glowing toxins. The little barbs warped themselves into his armor, locking on his visible and reachable cables and delivering a nasty dose of acid and my own pain inducing energon straight into his blood stream. His hand came up and grabbed one of my whips, tugging me closer.

The roar from Blackwind's throat nearly deafened me as I sank my claws deep into the metal floor, planting myself in place and foiling his plan. Pulling back on my own whips, I jerked him forwards off balance, and bolted forwards to ram my shoulder into his stomach plates. His pedes grinded on the floor as I pushed him backwards, large fists' of heavy metal crashing down onto my back plates as we grappled. My whips sucked back into my arms as my forearm blades descended simultaneously into battle position, just in time for me to whip my blade across his side, splitting the metal with a little bit of difficulty. His energon bubbled and spilled in thick and rolling waves of glowing blue, and I couldn't help but laugh as it made my grip difficult.

A small grimace escaped my mouth as a section of my armor was ripped off and then shoved back into my body point first. Weedling through the short and sharp ache, I continued to drive him back. I watched his cables flex in his side, a spurt from the shorn metal splattering across my faceplates and visor, and I had a split second chance to duck between the apex of his legs before his fists slammed down in a hit that would have shattered my spinal strut. Skidding on my hands and knees under him, I brought up my blade and sliced through the cables that allowed motor control to his right leg. I missed on the left, only succeeding in making him bleed.

As his weight brought his leg down briefly, I rolled out of the way. Stopping in a crouched position, I licked my lips, tasting his energon. It was hot and tangy, half processed through his lines, and almost bitter sweet. Swallowing, I grinned, my denta flashing briefly as I almost contemplated waiting for him to move. Deciding against it within a matter of a micro millisecond, I bolted back for him, aiming to disable his arm at the shoulder socket while it was still within my immediate reach.

Instead I was sent reeling backwards from a fist in the face. Half of my high durability visor shattered, allowing one of my optics free, as the shrapnel dug into the softer metal of my cheek, poking all the way through. When I got my balance again, I didn't bother trying to remove the remnants as I found myself fending off Blackwind again as he drove through the obvious pain and proceeded to try and maul me again.

I was pinned on my back, blocking his kicks and hits as he drove me into the floor, my broken armor bits stabbing deeply into me, when my saving grace came from the staircase. The sounds of thundering feet ether large enough in mass quantity or size came blaring into our fight, and it was enough to distract Blackwind for a split second. In that second, I made use of my pulped organs to bend my lower half flush with my upper half. From that position, I rocketed my legs back down and out, kicking Blackwind back wards.

The loss of his normal use of his leg made him topple back onto his back with an outraged roar. Flipping to my feet, I launched up to the top of his chest, standing on him as I dug my claws in and injected a very thinly strained version of Nixazto, a fast acting metal corrosive. Blackwind roared at me again, and his arm came up and hit my weaker hip. The socket cracked, and I toppled from on top of him with a resounding crash.

Struggling back to my feet, the bad leg useless with it dislocated and fractured, I was knocked down again as he rolled over, swinging his leg, and knocked the other leg out of place as well. With both legs officially out of commission, I pushed myself onto my hands and released my whips. I managed to get four good cracks across his armor and across his face as Blackwind stood up again. He growled in a feral tone at me, and when I cracked him across the face again, he grabbed my whip on the back draw.

Navy optics glinting with a strange light, he flung me through the air with my one whip as I withdrew the other one. Keeping a steady pulse of acid through the whip was hard to do, especially when the main frame of my arm broke beneath my protoform, rendering my motor functions in that arm as useless. Blackwind began to laugh as he pulled me towards him multiple times, batting me away with a large palm each time. He kicked me when he tired of hitting me, and then he smashed me into the ground. I bit my glossa on accident, and used the pain to remember that I was fighting him for a reason. Stomping towards me, he stepped on me, digging his toes into the bared nodes of my back before he began to press and grind downwards.

My pelvis shattered once more, the pieces even more sharp and brittle then the last time. Following my pelvis was a fracture of the lower part of my spine, and for the metal cage of my chest to partially cave in. When he kicked me over onto my back, I looked up at him with energon from my glossa dribbling down my face. I grinned at him, my optics flashing faintly from the half missing visor. I spat at him, sending my toxic blood into his wires.

The arm that hadn't broken lashed out as he bent down to grab me and do who knows what the frag with me, and I raked my claws deeply across his face. With a wild sound, he flailed back, grasping at his optic that I had managed to scratch. Blackwind made a garbled sounding growl and lunged forwards, pile driving the heel of his pede into my working arm and snapping it.

Letting my helm drop back to the floor with a clang, I started to laugh upon realization that I _had indeed_ reached the stage that Uncle Windstrider had been drilling into me for six of Cybertron's months. I laughed, because the pain wasn't really pain anymore. The pain was normal now, broken main frames, mulched organs, and shattered armor. It was all _normal _for me now! My laughing hiccupped when Blackwind kicked my chest, sending me rolling. But it resumed with the same resounding pitch as when it had started.

"Enough." Windstrider said. "She has achieved it." He said. I rolled my helm towards him as he walked forwards, peering down at me. "It took you two months longer then it did for me." He said in disappointment. "But, your Mimi did set you back a bit." He clicked. "I suppose you are doing well." His gaze flicked from my grinning face to Blackwind's. "Fix her now. We are done for today; Her welds need time to heal before we continue."

Blackwind dropped down next to me again, tending to his own wounds first as was his norm as well. While I let my laughter die off completely, it finally came to my notice that we weren't alone. Off to the side, a group of rather large and strangely built Cybertronians were watching us intently. One of them looked desperately torn as the bot gazed at me. With the silence following my laughter, I could hear them talking to one another.

"I shouldn't be here, Prima." The desperate looking one said to the largest of the bots, a femme by the frame type, who towered well over the height of my Papa, and towered closer to the height of the Naz. "My spark is tearing itself apart. I fight the need to fix them until their frames are as unblemished as a newly birthed sparkling." He said.

"Calm yourself, Mavnal." The large femme spoke, her voice calm and gentle. "There will be time for fixing them when Cybertron is a peace."

"These two will be _offlined_ by then, surely," another Mech spoke. "Can we not let Mavnal Prime heal them now? Does it matter if our followers see this act of Primus?"

"Yes, Vector Prime." Prima said softly. "Not all of us are here yet ether; keep that in mind. Alpha Trion and Aanas Prime are gathering our forces to defend this place."

Another Femme spoke from up top, her voice almost too soft for me to hear. Tuning in my audio receptors, I watched them with one optic, the other closing so as not to give me a headache with my half shadowed vision. "The rebels are going to strike here. I have seen it in my paintings."

Mavnal let off a small sound and stepped forwards, leaning heavily on the railings around the arena. "It matters not to me when they strike; my spark sings with the call of Primus to heal those younglings _now_."

"And you will, when the rest of the thirteen arrive, Mavnal." Prima soothed.

"Excuse me," WindStrider interrupted them, planting his hands on his hip joints as he flared his door wings into a sharp V shape. "The Arena isn't open to Civilians right now. I'm going to have to ask you to leave immediately. This is the time for us fighters to practice and hone our skills without all of you watching us."

"We aren't Civilians, young fighter," the one they called Prima called back down to my uncle. "We are the Thirteen Primes. We are waiting for our allies to come, and then, we shall begin to teach you the ways of Primus."


	11. See The Light

(_**Sorry for the long wait, guys. Homework has had me swamped, and it drives me freaking insane that I can't write as often as I'd like too. Sorry… Anyways, here's the next chapter of FAA. Sorry if its short; trying to revive my muse after so much homework. When you get a Zero percent in a clothing class, its kind of a downer.**_

_**Anyways, enjoy~ much love to my sis, and everyone who supports this fic~ I am very sorry you get this piece of crap chapter; been soo tired~ D:~**_)

Thirteen Primes? They were the bots that were trying to take over and bring Cybertron to peace under a unified reign. Or, at least that was what they were preaching. To me, they caused as much trouble as they tried to prevent. Thousands of our kind died every day during internal conflict brought upon by their 'teachings'.

"Teach us of Primus?" Windstrider scoffed. "Most of us down here don't care for your group, Primes. I'd advise leaving before you cause an unwanted scene." His doorwings flicked slightly. "Besides, I'm in the middle of teaching, and you are interrupting a training lesson. Please leave the way you came." He waved his hand at the stairs.

The one called Mavnal hit the railing with his fist. With one optic closed, I watched the metal bend willingly beneath his hand into the shape of his fist. "Training?" He called down. To my audio receptors, the frustration was evident in his tone. "This is something only monsters do; to pit younglings together and watch them fight it out until one is ether dead or cant move enough to save their lives…"

"That's life," Windstrider barked up at him. "It's not fair, its not pleasant, but you know what? If you can't cut it, you die."

"This is nothing but savagery!" Mavnal growled.

"Enough," Prima interrupted.

"But Prima!" Mavnal protested. "Those are younglings down there! It's against the words of Primus and the laws of the Primes to stand by and watch the pain and suffering of the young ones!"

Prime fixed him with a calm stare. "Mavnal Prime, you have said your part. That is enough." She spoke. "They are not yet followers of Primus; they don't fall under our laws, unfortunately."

I watched Mavnal make a slicing motion with his hand. "It is my duty, bequeathed by Primus himself, that I help those in need! Those two down there are in need, Prima!"

Prima stared at him calmly. "Then by call means," she motioned with a hand out too us, arching a brow. "Go. Soothe your calling." Mavnal danced on his pedes, looking increasingly more agitated. But he did not leave to come down here.

"Hey!" Windstrider called out loudly. "I said for you to leave!"

"And we're not going," Prima answered my uncle, "Until that which we came here to do has been fulfilled." Leaning on the railing, she peered down at us with something akin to a mix of pity and amusement. "Which, sir gladiator, it has not."

Windstrider flicked his wings in a way that I recognized as annoyance. "Fine; when your glitching tanks rebel, I expect you to clean it up. Stay _off_ of the fighting floor."

Prima tilted her helm. "Perhaps we will, perhaps we wont." I could hear a dull thundering starting down the long stairs that lead down here; someone in a large group was coming. "That would be the rest of us." She said. I watched Prima tilt her helm back to Mavnal. "Now, you may go. Assist them; our brethren approach." Windstrider hiked up his wings angrily and paced over to them, clambering up the wall and railing to speak in tones I could not hear to Prima.

Mavnal didn't give any notice of her words, other then jumping over the railing. His landing on the ground made it shake, and then he was striding quickly over to us. Beside me, Blackwind started to trill a soft tune as he welded the slash I had made across his abdomen. When the large mech, much larger then my Mimi or my Papa, reached us, I sat myself up awkwardly with the one unbroken arm I had. My effort was wasted when Mavnal gently pressed my shoulders back down with his fingers. He flopped down next to me. "Easy little one," he crooned, "I'll get you fixed up."

"M'fine." I said.

"Nonsense," He crooned again. His hands slipped under me and he lifted me effortlessly onto his lap. Given the fact I couldn't feel anything below the fracture of my spinal strut, I was about as limp as a newborn sparkling. His fingers probed my back gently, and the blue of his optics glinted mournfully down at me. "You had door wings…"

"Torn off a long while ago," I grunted, his fingers not pleasant across the naked nodes. "Lemme be; I'm fine." I groused. Flicking my visible optic up to focus on his face, I grimaced at him so he'd know I was not pleased, and used my one mostly undamaged arm to try and shove at him.

"Stop fussing," he said. "I'm Mavnal Prime, little one. It's best you just let me heal you. Do you still have your door wings intact somewhere? I can reattach them." He said. Mavnal let his fingers gently press down my back, locating the fracture of my spinal strut, before going around to gently press at my hips and up to my chest. "Your organs are so damaged… Everything is cracked and broken; it will take time," he vented. "What is your name, little one?"

"For you?" I growled. "I don't have one for you." I didn't answer him any more then that.

Blackwind, the bastard that he was, did it for me. "Her Mimi, Shadeburner, keeps them at their home. Her wings that is," he answered as he started to tend to his face. "And Nightstrike is Nightstrike. She's always been Nightstrike." He chirped, moving to fix other parts of his frame. Then he reached out and poked my arm. "You used the poison." He whined at me.

"Poison?" Mavnal clicked, shifting me away from Blackwind's fingers. "What poison?"

"Runs through my lines." I groused. My arm moved out and I held it over Blackwind's arm. He willingly turned it so I could simply inject it into his lines. Obliging him, I was swift in sinking my claws into him, switching out my toxin line and swapping it for my antivenom. It pumped into his system for a second or two, all he needed, and then I withdrew, drawing my claws back. "There. Now finish healing yourself."

"Okay." Blackwind chirped.

Mavnal shifted me carefully again, and then I felt him jab me with some sort of needle. "This is barbaric." He said softly. Whatever he injected into me spread a cooling relief over my body, numbing me. But it was short lived; my own toxins burned through the invasive liquid, nullifying it before it could fully help me. Mavnal frowned, seeming to have noticed. "Its good to meet you though, NightStrike."

"I can't say the same to you." I responded to his greeting. Tilting my helm, peering up at him again, I said, "It's the only way we know how to live, down here." I responded honestly to him. Fighting in the pits was all I had ever known; outside life was not often something us fighters saw. Windstrider was an exception to this rule.

He gently patted my helm with his thumb. "I know, Child." He murmured. Mavnal turned his optics back to my midsection and sighed. "Will you summon your creators here with your wings? I would like to get them attached again." His fingers felt gently across my abdomen, and Mavnal heaved a heavy vent. "I need to open your abdominal cavity to begin healing your organs. Do I have your permission?"

I nodded. "Do it." I said. Turning my attention to my spark, I felt along my bonds. Windstrider was there; he gave me a gentle hug via the spark and then ignored me as I traveled the lines. Finding Mimi and Papa was easy; disengaging them from their current activities took some work. Good thing it gave me a bit to do so while Mavnal prepped his tools for cutting me open as he began removing the armor covering my stomach.

'_What?'_ Mimi answered me gruffly.

'_Mimi?'_

'_I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment, little one.' _He said, '_ What is it?'_

'_I need you to bring my wings down to the arena; I can't really move, and there's a mech that goes by Mavnal Prime here, who is currently trying to fix me.'_

'_A Prime?' _Mimi asked wearily,_ 'How much is he going to charge us?'_

'_He hasn't said.'_ I answered him honestly.

'_We'll bring your doors. Don't worry. We'll be there soon.'_

'_Okay. Thanks, Mimi.'_

'_Don't worry, scraplet. We don't mind.'_

"Mimi's coming." I responded to him. "So is my mech creator."

"Good," Mavnal commented, "I'm going to start now. It's going to hurt, little Nightstrike." His fingers pressed my abdomen again; the metal flexed and molded itself in a way that it shouldn't. "I'm sorry the anesthetic didn't work on you."

I huffed in restlessness. "Don't mind me. The pains wont bother me."

Mavnal nodded and I closed both of my optics as I heard his hand transform. With the transformation of his fingers, I felt them press into me before a sharp pain filled me, making me grunt. As soon as the cavity over my abdomen was cut back, cool air flooding the mass of my organs, Mavnal nudged my face gently. "Hey. This is going to hurt the worst, okay?" He informed me. "I'm going to heal your internal organs first; it will take me some time. Please, do not move. I'm going to try and ease you into stasis as I do this, so you wont feel all of it."

"Go for it." I rasped softly.

He did. Mavnal dipped his hands into my abdominal cavity. Between his fingers, my internals slipped and sloped, a thick and nasty mess from the beating I took previously. The pain made me flinch unexpectedly; who could have known that organs held so many sensory nodes? As I flinched slightly, I felt his hands warming. Peeking open with one optic, white light washed over my vision, blinding me. Briefly I could see the imprint of one of his fingers, the hand not buried in my innards, pressed to my visor, as the glass began to repair itself before my very eyes.

When the light cleared from my gaze, dragging back with a numbing feeling, I felt myself staring blankly up at darkness. The darkness faded too, dragging with it a shoddily constructed dream, in which I was alone, experimenting on my toxins with some unexpected results.


	12. Feed The Flames

(_**I'm slow at updating, I know, and I feel like a slagtard for it. I have no honest explanation, other then to say that Tumblr and RolePlaying have taken over my life. That… and I can't write during the day. Daylight kills any and all muses I might have. And I regret nothing~ I've even got a few crack OTP's that I love.**_

_**Sis knows this one. Megatronus and Ironhide? Oh yes. She knows this well.**_

_**I also have taken a bit of a liking to Sunny/Jazz/Sides. But shhh, you heard nothing from me.**_

_**I also play a Sunstreaker on Tumblr… he's bitchen~ ;D**_

_**Anyways, enjoy chapter 12. It might be cheesy, it might not, but I won't know until I submit it. The next chapter should be out much faster, provided that I don't get busy with shit that isn't important.**_)

When I onlined again after the strange dream, it took my processor a moment to realize that I was not at home, snuggled between my creators. It was too loud for that to be true; thousands of feet stomped around me, seemingly antsy, and further along somewhere to my right, I could hear a loud feminine voice speaking. It sounded like Prima. I couldn't register just what she was saying, only that she was speaking in what sounded like a motivational tone.

I gave a soft groan as I felt my frame shifted and moved, even though I recognized the arms holding me. Nitrostreak's engine gunned beneath his chest as he realized I was somewhat awake, though the thought of opening my optics was not terribly tempting. My helm lolled against his shoulder, and it came to my notice that other then a few things, I did not actually hurt like I normally did. Flexing my fingers on the arm that had been broken, I noted that they worked without a flaw. In fact, I could feel my legs too, from where they had been fractured. An inhalation of my vents helped prove that there wasn't anything sloshing around inside of me anymore. Everything felt normal. Except for one thing. Something, two things truly, had been added to my frame.

There was something heavy where my wing nodes had once been empty. They no longer felt raw, but they ached nonetheless. And something felt like it was pressing down on them, keeping them motionless and covered.

I opened my optics to find that not only was my visor fixed, but Windstrider, Shadeburner, Nitrostreak, and Blackwind peering down at me… Along with many faces I knew and also did not know. Mavnal was there, next to my Mimi, and many others. I made a slightly startled noise by instinct, jerking in Nitrostreak's arms.

Shadeburner scooted closer to me, bracing my startled frame against his, so I didn't fall out of Papa's arms. I had, after all, grown a bit over my time out of fighting. "Easy, easy, sweet spark," he hummed gently. "You've been in stasis for a while, while Mavnal Prime fixed you."

"As much as I could anyways," Mavnal said from somewhere out of my view, now that Mimi took over most of it, "I could not fix your hip strut, or fully fix your companion's processor." So Blackwind wasn't fixable? "I've reduced the amount of unnecessary psychotic aggression, but I cannot do more. I am not Primus; my gifts are limited… Such as your door wings."

"M' Doors." I grunted softly.

Nitrostreak let out a trill from above me and gently shifted me. The uncomfortable pressure shifted off of my back, and I relaxed a bit. "What Mavnal means, little 'Strike, is that your doors are fully fixed and attached, but because of the damage done to the nodes, you're door wings are essentially hypersensitive."

I quirked a brow at him, slightly groggy in my reaction to his words. "Hypersensitive…?"

Mavnal's face appeared over Mimi's shoulder, leering down at me with a strange smile. It was a smile akin to sadness and kindness. "Your doors are going to be something that nothing can touch. A slight breeze across your door panels would hurt; it made you spasm in your sleep. So, I crafted a compartment in your back for them to fit into. They wont get in your way now."

A grimace dominated my face for a time being. If it wasn't one problem, it was another… "Thank you, then." I said to him, somewhat sincere. "How much do we owe you in credits?" Probably enough for us to be paying him for some time; enough that I probably will still be paying until I offline.

"Nothing." He shook his helm.

"Nothing." Shadeburner agreed. "He explained to us that he wouldn't accept our credits, dear spark."

Mavnal nodded. "As a follower of Primus, I will not except money for something that saved a life."

I nodded faintly again. "Can I get up please?" Lying down was beginning to bother me. I was fixed; why were they holding me like I would be stolen away?

Nitrostreak let off a discontent rumble. "That's not the best idea." He said softly to me, his optics shifting to look at the crowd. "These mechs around us are eager to see the work of Mavnal Prime. They wish to see if the Primes speak true." He shifted me and held me closer. "I am not eager to let them manhandle my sparkling."

"'M not a sparkling anymore. I'm in my young adult frame." I protested. Shifting my feet, I let out an irritable click. "Let me down."

"Behave and listen to your creators." Windstrider quipped to me from out of view. "Let them keep a hold on you. You're all going to get moved up front with that Prima femme anyways." He scoffed, obviously irked with her, "She wants to show you off to the crowd, so that all of them can look at you."

As he spoke, the crowd began to undulate around us. Papa and Mimi were stuck walking up towards where Prima was speaking. I shut my optics until we arrived there, Papa carrying me up some sort of stairs. I let my optics open again as I was shifted up onto my pedes. My legs wobbled like a newly toddling sparkling, and I found my shoulders firmly grasped by Blackwind as my parents held onto my arms. Blinking slightly as soon as I no longer felt made of putty, I stared out at a crowd of faces that looked expectantly at me.

"Mavnal Prime," Prima boomed from my left, "has healed this youngling of her grievous wounds. You all saw the light that emitted from his work; that was the light of Primus, wielded by his chosen Primes!"

A rush of whispers rose from the crowd, and I shifted out of my parents grip, though I couldn't manage to shake Blackwind. Behind me, he shuddered slightly. Unless he was fighting, he hated hundreds of optics watching him.

Something big and metal shifted behind the group, and then there was a growl from Blackwind as he was shoved back from me. I turned to look, only to find myself face to face with what looked like a giant metal lizard beast. Its helm was larger then my body, with fangs that made the Naz's teeth immaculate in comparison. It smiled at me, black armor pulling back into a genuinely horrifying and kind smile. "Easy, little one. I am Aanas Prime." A low and deep rumbling voice came from within his throat, the dragon creature obviously male. My creators didn't panic, so he must not have been a threat. "The bots in the back need to be able to see you. Turn around, please."

"No." I answered swiftly. "Not happening."

"It's for your own good," Aanas said to me.

'_Listen to the dragon, Nightstrike.'_

'_But Mimi!'_

'_No.' _The order was firm but loving_. 'Just go with it, little one. If you behave, I'll tell you a little secret."'_

"I guess…" I mumbled. Turning around tensely, I felt those teeth gently latch onto the metal of my back, hooking under the plates. It passed through my processor that I shouldn't have done that, and yet it flew out just as fast when my pedes were lifted off of the ground. My legs curled under me, and my arms flailed, door wings fluttering inside their casings. "Oh slag!"

"Don't move," the dragon said to me, "I wont drop you, but if you wiggle, your wires could get caught on my teeth." My wires caught on his teeth were the last of my worries, as I watched the crowd grow less looming as I was brought up. When I towered up high, I let myself dangle, waiting for my chance to get down.

"This is the young adult that Mavnal Prime has mended! Do you see her frame?" Prima called in her booming voice. "Aanas Prime has held her up for all to see! Do you see any damage on her? No? Then there is your proof! It was by Primus will that you all saw the lasting lights of her healing, and it was by Primus will that she was healed! Primus loves all, and is tired of the fighting! We are here to unify everyone under the order of Primus himself!"

That was the biggest load of slag I had ever heard. But, behaving on my Mimi's orders, I stayed silent, and pretty much droned out the tall femme as she went on into some sort of monologue. Politics. Ugh. Peering up, I made the mistake of realizing that Aanas' teeth were even more fragging huge up close. Forget about the fear of the Naz for a second; this Prime was a beast made for war.

Hypocritical politicians. Talk about peace, and then bring your machines of war to a peace meeting.

I made a slightly strangled noise as I was lowered back down towards the ground, having not been up there for long. My noise was covered up by the roar of the crowd, for apparently, I was proof enough that Primus existed. As soon as my pedes touched the floor and those long teeth were removed from my back armor, I was pulled over to stand in between Mimi and Papa. Mimi knelt slightly and leaned towards my audio receptor. "I promised I would tell you a secret, didn't I?"

I nodded silently at him, leaning my helm over so he could speak quieter to me.

"Well, little one, you're going to have to step up in fighting now that you've been repaired. I'm going to have to take a hiatus from fighting, so it will only be you and Nitrostreak that bring in the credits." Mimi said to me.

"What?" I asked sharply, jerking my helm over to look as him. "Is something wrong with your frame?"

Papa clapped me on the shoulder and gave me a good hefty shake, a good way of pulling my attention from Shadeburner up to him. "Nothing wrong, little one. You're Mimi just cannot receive any damage for a long while. After all, isn't it also illegal for carrying mechs to be in the pits anyways?" He grinned.

Carrying…? Mimi was… carrying? I blinked owlishly up at him from behind my visor. Then I rubbed my helm, tapping the locations of my audio receptors. Everything felt fine, but that's usually how it was with Audio receptor damage. "I think my audio receptors are going out. Did you just say Mimi was carrying?"

"Yes, Nitrostreak did." Shadeburner said to me. I turned and looked at him, looking for any signs of carrying. There weren't any swells or signs or anything like that… but I had also never seen a carrying bot before ether. "Well, what do you think?" He asked. Over the bond, I felt his spark twitch nervously. Awaiting my acceptation or my rejection. It occurred to me then, that because of the rather large gap in age difference, they thought I might not have wanted a younger sibling to join the family.

They were wrong. I looped my arm around Mimi's midsection and nuzzled his chest plates gently. "I'm excited for a sibling." I clicked. "But does this mean I need to move my poisons lab from the closet so I can sleep in there?"

"Primus no," Shadeburner chuckled, drawing a slight glare from a few mechs in the front row of the cheering crowd. "No, no. You'll still recharge with us, as all families do. Just, when it's born, you wont get to sleep in the middle until it's bigger. You have a tendency for moving around quite a lot in your sleep, and you would squish the little thing." He hugged me back, clicking softly to me. "But we will be adding a lock to your door. Sparklings get into everything."

I nodded and chuckled softly. "Of course, Mimi, of course." I stepped back, a smile on my face. Looking up to the top of the pit, the solid surface roofing, I pondered on how I would train my sibling when it came of age.

I watched the ceiling long enough for my optics to catch the bright flashes of explosive detonators going off. The cheers of the crowd changed to the howls and jeers of battle ready mechs as the falling debris from the ceiling were invaded by mechs diving through them.

"The attack has started!" one of the primes shouted. "Guard them well and fight back!"


	13. Dampen The Fire

(_**Chapter update… Blah… ahhh… So much stress from RL… I'm tired of my Grandma trying to force religion down my throat, like it's a balm that will make me perfect in her eyes. I'm half considering becoming something she can't stand just to spite her… but I'm already there. After all, I'm fat, I'm lazy, and according to her, internet friends are not real friends… well Grandma, take your religion and your beliefs and go fuck yourself. I'm tired of it.**_

_**Sorry. I vented… I… aghghghg. Just forget you read that.**_

_**I hope this redeems the previous floppy chapters, even though I got lazy with the fight scenes… I am just not in the current mindset to write out an all out slaughtering mess…**_

_**Happy easter.**_)

Guard us well? We're pit fighters. We don't need guarded from anyone.

The large chunks of metal, the outer shell of Cybertron above us, crashed down into the pits. There was the sound of squealing metal, of spilled energon, as mechs who were not fast enough on their feet were crushed beneath the planets failing crust. The endless expanse of space opened up above us for a split second, before countless Cybertronian bodies began to rain in from the gaping hole above us.

Papa grabbed my arm and jerked me back, throwing his frame overt top of mine and Mimi's as Aanas took flight above us, a loud roar nearly fritzing out my audio receptors. Faintly, I could hear Papa shouting too us. "Get your Mimi to safety!"

"No!" Shadeburner protested in my ear. "I'm not far along enough for this to bother me." He pulled us up first, tugging me to my pedes. His hand pressed to my shoulder, and then in his other hand I watched him drop his whip. There was a spark at the end, and then the flames roared up the length. Over the bond, I felt them arguing fast pace and had an unwilling front row seat to the conversation that took just milliseconds.

'_You won't be fighting in your condition.'_

'_I was almost at the spark separation stage with Nightstrike before we noticed I was carrying! I never took any harm from it, and neither did she!'_

'_We're not taking the chance! This isn't a one on one fight. This is a warring battlefield that's spilled down into our midst!'_

'_Fine! If I don't go, then you don't go. We watch each other's backs!'_

'_You know I have to go, as does Nightstrike. We're battle worthy; you're carrying. By the codes of the pits, you aren't allowed to fight, Shadeburner. You have to understand this!'_

'_And what? I'm supposed to stay up here unguarded then? In my __**vulnerable**__ state?'_

'_No…'_

My barbed whips dropped from their compartments. My toxic energon flooded down their lengths, dripping from the hollow barbs. Along with my own personal blend, I flooded my lines with Nixazto, the fast acting metal corrosive acid, and Yfidrus, the spark melting paralyzing toxin. They mixed in my own energon lines before cycling down into the whips, making my lines burn pleasantly with harmless pain. I looked out to the battle; it hadn't reached us yet.

"BlackWind," Papa pulled the mech too him despite the seven foot height difference. Pulling the psychotic mech's helm down to his own, Nitrostreak snarled in his face, drawing a returned snarl from Blackwind. "You guard Shadeburner with your spark, you hunk of slag, or I'll torture you until your fried processor can't recognize up from down."

Blackwind snarled in Nitrostreak's face. "Yes sir!"

Once again, I was scruffed. It was really beginning to piss me off; sure I wasn't in my full adult frame yet, and I was still on the small side, but fragging pits! I wasn't a sparkling!

"Lets go Nightstrike." Nitrostreak said. He cocked his arm back to throw me over the mechs in our way, only for his arm to be grabbed.

I flicked my gaze over and glared at Mavnal. "Let go," I growled.

"No," He said. Using his height to his advantage, he began to pull me up out of my sire's grasp. "This is wrong for a youngling to fight. Nitrostreak, if you seek such energon shed, don't bring an innocent spark into this."

That was _enough_ of mechs trying to control me. I flipped my frame slightly and let my arm mounted blade slide out. Slashing it across the cables of Mavnal's arm, I made the mech let go. Papa had enough of a grip to fling me a ways out into the battle, though not far enough.

"NanoSpring!" I heard Papa bark, as I headed for the shoulder of one of the Pit Mechs. "Boost her!" The mech, engrossed in fighting, still heard my sire. His arms rose up, and I curled my frame to land feet first on his palms. His arms sunk down like the shocks of our alt modes, his fingers curling over my pedes to keep me balanced as I wobbled. Then his arms sprung upwards, launching me forwards into the heat of the fray.

I flipped once in mid air, getting my whips to swinging, and caught sight of my sire still stuck on the platform, looking about to brawl with Mavnal. Mimi and Blackwind were currently being huddled to the back by the femme who had previously spoken of her paintings and their foretelling futures.

My right whip caught on the neck of one unlucky mech with odd wings, a seeker, and my momentum swung me around until it looped around his neck and I clung to his back. Pulling out my claws, I shredded his back before leaping off as he reached for me. My whip tightened around his neck, the barbs digging in, and then moved like a razor as it unwound. Well, unwound while sheering through his neck. I landed on the ground, not bothering on watching his shredded neck tumble away from his helm as the acids ate away at the metals.

I launched at the next mech, dodging a pit mech from my ranking. Slamming my whips into his legs, I shredded the cables, leaving his legs to collapse under him. With his helm in my reach, my whips were temporarily forgotten. I darted forwards, my feet claws spiking into his lower back and injected toxins as I used that spot for a standing point. My hands wrapped around his helm, his mouth open with a scream. I felt his optics shedding tears onto my hand. What a slagging little glitch.

I tore his helm off without a second thought, his energon spurting up and over my upper half. I flicked my glossa across my lips as I flung his helm away, bouncing it off the back of some stupid sap in my way. His energon was nasty. I spat it out of my mouth before I leapt from his falling corpse onto the back of another mech.

I was not so lucky with this one. He was faster then me, and managed to flip me over his shoulder before I could sever his spinal strut from his neuronet. I landed on my back, lashing my whips up to score the mech across his faceplates. The plates began melting grotesquely as he growled at me. He went to stomp on me, and then he was airborne, snatched up and subsequently torn to shreds in Aanas' claws.

I scrabbled to my feet only to be blindsided by another mech, denting the plating around my rib structure. However, as I watched Aanas wheel around in the sky, his optics searching for something, I dispatched the mech quickly enough. Some of these mechs were green; they were worse at fighting then the nobles. Scrabbling successfully to my feet after shoving out from under dead mech, I shook the spark goo off of my digits after successfully jabbing in-between the plates of his armor and splitting his spark in half.

I looked up only to have to flatten myself to the ground as Aanas made a sweeping grab for me. "Mavnal's orders," his voice rang out over the roars and screams of fighting and dieing mechs. "He doesn't want his healing to be wasted."

"And I don't give three slags, two pits, or one flying frag what he wants!" I roared up at him. Rolling to my pedes, I scurried into the throng of the fighting, escaping the dragon while taking several sidelong hits to my frame.

I spotted the gleam of my sire's frame not too far from me as he battled mechs right and left. I soon found myself settling into the monotonous rhythm of it all. If I hit the ground, Aanas was always tearing away the mech standing above me. If I was in an open space, I had to book it for the nearest throng of mechs and throw myself headlong into the violence, lest Aanas' claws catch a hold of my frame. I lost track of the frames I offlined, lost in the throng of battle. I did catch sight of uncle Windstrider once or twice as he swooped in to save my sire from a hit to the helm once or twice.

The floor was slick with energon and cluttered with dead frames and severed body parts. With each mech falling, their life blood mingling and their frames getting trampled down, I lost the ability to distinguish which side the dead frame beneath my pedes belonged too. At one point, I recognized NanoSpring from earlier, his optics long dark and dead.

The monotonous rhythem of it all was simple and plain, boring almost once you settled into the system of killing and getting beat while you were killing. Well, until something broke the rhythm of it all.

My spark seized and spasmed in my chest, fluctuating in such a way that it made me pause and nearly caused my helm to get severed from my shoulders. The pain flared over my frame, a pain I had never known before, and I tracked it frantically through my lines as I dispatched the mech trying to kill me. Mimi was fine, feeling the same thing I was, as was Windstrider, though his side of the bond was rippling, struggling to stay connected as he latched onto me frantically through the bond. I found Papa. Papa was not all right.

My optics found my Papa's frame right about the time that my spark did, and a rage ignited my frame, shoving aside the pain. I heard Mimi's desperate call to me through the bond to save my sire because Shadeburner wasn't able to get to Nitrostreak in time. My legs launched me off of the corpse below my pedes, and then I was launching at the mech hurting and defiling my sire in such a way that called for retribution.

Nitrostreak was on his back, his chest plates caved open. His spark glittered out of the hole, and the mech was scraping out chunks of it with his claws as Nitrostreak broke the code and screamed a shrill and static filled scream. My sire's arms flailed faintly, unable to focus with the attack to his very soul ravaging his movements and the bonds within. The mech, a dark black shade similar to my own coloring, was laughing, and clearly enjoying himself as he defiled my father before my very own optics.

He was also not expecting it when I broadsided him, knocking him off of Nitrostreak. I straddled the mech, facing his chest, and set out to give him a taste of his own medicine. My claws, dripping with acrid acids and venoms, dug through his chassis as if his very chest frame was made out of the soft foam added on the softest sleeping berths out there. Soon, as I pinned his arms with my legs as he thrashed beneath me in a feral fury, I bared his well-guarded spark chamber for the world to see. Out of the corner of my optics, I could see Windstrider providing cover for me as I took revenge for my sire. He even shot at Aanas as the dragon swooped to try and get me.

With one hand, I laid my whip across the mech's legs multiple times, coursing venom through the spikes as it tore, shredded, and infected the metal with my toxic essence. The other hand claws at his spark chamber, shoving away the little springy shavings of metal as I peeled back the metal of his spark chamber layer by layer. When I punctured the sensitive metal, the mech was screaming shrilly beneath me. I ignored his screams; after all, they were music to my twisted audio receptors.

Dipping my claws down, I grasped his spark and stroked it softly before I dug the tip of my thumb claw into the thick and solid plasma life energy. The mech bucked and bellowed in pain as I began to move my claw around his spark, severing the energy in a full three hundred and sixty degree around way. I watched with a sick satisfaction as layers of his life force dimmed and were shucked off, leaving his spark to be an ever-shrinking ball of plasma.

When I reached the core, I stabbed my thumb through his spark, relishing the squeal of pain the mech let out before he choked and his optics dimmed as he died.

I left his frame then, moving back over to my sire to assess the damages. Around us, the battle began to slowly wane, the invading bots being killed off. Dropping down next to my sire, I tugged at him with the bond, feeling his pain still undulating through me. Carefully, I leaned on his chest with one hand as I checked to see how his spark was. What I saw wasn't good.

Along the curve of the glowing orb, there were large gouges of missing spark material. Unlike how I had killed the other mech, Papa's spark was riddled with holes instead of the smooth kill I had done for the other mech. His spark was hemorrhaging energon everywhere, leaking from the holes and gouges as well as the torn housing of his spark casing, and the glowing orb was fading and brightening at random.

Closing my hand gently over his spark, I tried to stop the bleeding.

'_Don't, little one_. _It's no use._' Nitrostreak spoke to me over the bond, his voice faint beneath the layers of soul deep pain.

"I have to try," I grunted, the pain reverberating through me. Pressing my palm a little tighter around his spark, I tugged at Mimi's bond. Mimi was in hysterics. But, I don't blame him; his bond mate was in pain after having his spark shredded and defiled. '_Get Mavnal and bring him here. Papa needs his healing touch._'

'_Already coming. Keep him alive, Nightstrike._'

'_Yes Mimi._'

I kept pressure on Nitrostreak's spark, the hemorrhaging easing with the pressure. Papa kept speaking to me in little murmurs across the bond, those same words repetitive in his helm and in his being. I did not respond anymore, I just remained a silent statue to his agony. There was a loud thump, and I risked a glance to see that Aanas had landed and was shredding a mech not to far from where I was settled at. His large wings battered at anyone who came close to his frame, and those dagger like teeth tore through the metal of the mech's chest. It occurred to me that no one might have noticed, but it looked like he was actually eating the metal he was ripping apart.

As the frame disappeared mostly, I noticed that it was true. He was eating the mech he was killing.

Mavnal took my shoulder, startling me. "Let me see what I can do." I was pulled away, my hand leaving my sire's spark, and was pulled into a rough hug by my carrier. Mimi was extremely upset, but holding me seemed to help ground him. Blackwind was behind Mimi, staring at Papa blankly.

I turned in Mimi's grasp to watch Mavnal. He leaned forwards on his knees, touching Nitrostreak's chassis. He gently touched the edges of the chamber, drawing a keen from Papa, before dipping a hand inside to gently shift Papa's spark around. He held it for a moment, and I watched him concentrate on what he was doing.

Nothing happened.

Mavnal heaved a potent sigh and gently let go of Papa's spark before standing again. He looked over at us, and I saw deep in his optics that he was upset but resigned. "By Primus will, his spark is destined for the matrix." He murmured. "Spend what time he has left with him. Aanas will guard you… I must tend to the others."


	14. Douse The Embers

(_**Yo, yo. Glad you all liked my cliffhanger~ enjoy the feels in this one :P Short, but eh. Deal with it. I cried through a good chunk of this so meh.**_

_**No excuse other then Tumblr and lazyness… and Junior Year kicking my ass… I can imagine Senior year will be worse. I have to write a book, I've decided, for my senior project.**_

_**AND TO MY DEAR FRIEND WHOZAWHATZA {cant ever remember your name, my apologies}, you see? There is feels! They're more then just monsters! They do love! And they love deeply! **_))

I shuddered softly at his words and crawled forwards with Shadeburner. Windstrider came forth, shuddering softly as he dropped down next to his twin. Uncle Windstrider keened low in his throat, the sound strange and foreign to my audio receptors. I moved up to sit next to Papa's helm, and I patted it gently. Inside their casing, just like with my spark in my own casing, my doors sunk low, and I let out a soul-deep mournful tune. "You can't go, Papa. You'll be all right. Mavnal is full of slag anyways."

Nitrostreak's hand convulsively clasped mine on his helm, and he gave off a pathetic keening noise. "No, no, no. Going… Nothing'll stop it. The unmaker wants me…"

Shadeburner lowered his face down onto Papa's arm and keened then. "No, no… Nitrostreak… We're supposed to go together!"

The bonds were raw between us, our family unit shattering with the slow and torturous death of one of the key ties. Uncle Windstrider wouldn't have any bonds after Papa died. Papa was the key to his bond with us. Without Papa here, his spark would wither and wilt, as did most twins where one died and the other lived. It… it would hurt. It hurt now. Even as we sat here, trying to cherish our time with him, the bonds were tearing and shredding. We may have been monsters, we might have been torturers and beasts of war, death, and torment. But we loved too. And we loved deeply. And we paid for that love with more pain, torment, and sadness. Such was the life of a pit fighter. Such was a fate I would meet too.

Another soul deep cry pulled from me. "Papa! You're strong! Stronger then me! You have to stay!" I said. "You have to stay for Mimi and the sparkling!"

His optics flickered and he looked up at me, focusing on me. I felt him tug me through the bond. "Cant, sweetspark…" He rasped. His spark pulsated in a rapid undulation in his chest, and my own throbbed in resonance with its sire spark. "I'm sorry… Care for your Mimi… Your sibling." His optics dimmed faintly and he seemed to struggle a bit.

"Pit fighters don't give up! They don't! Don't you give up!" I patted his cheek hard enough to bring him back, and I stared firmly down at him. "No! You'll be here to raise it and to save Mimi… I'll… I'll…" I had to think. What could I do? I couldn't do anything! I was a mortal being! I didn't have divine powers to try and save him like Mavnal did! I was just a youngling, I didn't know how to save him! There was nothing in my resources to repair his spark. It wasn't like I could just give him mine!

… Or could I?

"I'll give you my spark," I rasped to him softly.

He blinked slowly up at me and shook his helm. "No. No. No. I won' take yo'r life…"

Shadeburner let out a distressed wail. "It won't matter!" He roared both out loud and over the bonds. "I'll follow you into the well, and your brother will too! Both of our sparklings eventually too!" He howled.

"No!" Papa gave a raspy shout, his frame spasming with exertion of energy and _life_ he didn't have to spare. "No. You'll respect my last wish." He said. He cast dimming luminescent optics at my carrier. "As is my right as a fighter. One from each… As is my right."

Shadeburner gave Nitrostreak a mutinous look, stilling as he keened at my sire. His optics softened and he keened again, so desolately that it made my optics mist. "_Please_, Nitrostreak. You can survive!" He said. "Please. I know you can. Don't make me do this. Don't… Don't make me wait."

"You'll have too." Nitrostreak choked. He spasmed in my hold and reached a hand up to stroke his fingers up against my Mimi's chest plates. "For the lil' one… and our NightStrike." He said. "For them… For them… As long as you can… Until ours is born. You have too."

Shadeburner keened again and shook his helm, pressing it into Papa's fingers. "_I cant, Nitrostreak. I cant… I cant… I'm too weak…_"

"Yes, you _can_." Nitrostreak rasped surely. "Promise me, Shadeburner. As long as you can, until after the lil' one is birthed, and not a second before it takes its first invent."

"_How?_" He begged my mech creator. "How can I go on? My spark will be naught but half gone!"

"_And so will my brothers._" Nitrostreak rasped. "Be there for each other… Support. Be there. You _can_ do it. You _can_. And you _will_." His voice lightened. "You will… You will. It is what I want, Shadeburner. Will you honor it?"

Mimi collapsed atop of Nitrostreak, huddling to his chest bleakly. "I will," he sobbed, "I will…"

Windstrider keened across from us. I couldn't feel him anymore. He was gone from my spark… Yet he sat not four meters from me, optics wide and lost behind a retracted visor as he looked at us… through us. I'll be honest; as much as it hurt me to lose my father, the half of soul that helped give life to my own pathetic existence, I wont _ever_ know what it feels like to lose a twin, half of my being. I wouldn't know. Ever.

Blackwind gave a growl behind me, and was shoved back by something. I turned my helm to see Prima staring down at me with something… Pity? My mournful hurt and pain began to seep into rage. "If you hadn't come here, then none of this would have happened!" I roared. "I'd rather be in a million pieces then for this to happen! Fix it! Fix it, slag you, fix it!"

Prima's continued piteous gaze just made me angrier. "There is nothing to be done, young one." She motioned with a long and lanky hand to another femme, who stepped forwards. "Lunas predicted the outcome of this battle. She has never been wrong."

I turned my gaze to her. Her helm fins stuck out brightly, a gorgeous red color in comparison to her golden helm. Her optics cast me a merciful glance, asking for forgiveness for essentially sentencing my family to destruction. "I meant to change it… None of you worked with us, though. And many died because of it, because of our plunder." Her voice was soft and her voice bade me to forgive her. "Please… accept my greatest condolences for your loss… But know, his life is only the first of many that will be lost before all war comes to an end for our race."

I moved, dropping a whip to lash out at her. Lunas and Prima stepped back out of range as I cracked it again, letting venom push vehemently into the barbs and seep from the tips. "YOU COULD HAVE WARNED US!" I roared, antenna flattening to my helm as I snarled.

"Enough." Papa's bleak voice quelled my eminent rage, and I turned back to him, bowing my helm to touch his as I withdrew my whips.

"Please, Papa. Please… Don't go. We need you."

"You don't need me," He murmured faintly. His optics flitted up to lock with mine. "You'll survive." He said surely. Nitrostreak looked at his twin, and by some invisible force, made uncle Windstrider move forwards until he rested on above him, looking down at him. "Windstrider, brother, my other half." He rasped gently. "You must give me one final wish as well."

"Anything," Uncle Windstrider rasped softly, fingers reaching in to caress the hemorrhaging spark gently before drawing back as Papa keened. "Anything, brother. Anything…"

"Don't follow me, twin." He rasped. I felt his frame tremble as he held back another spasm; a spurt of energon jetting out of his spark. "Stay. Finish passing on your teachings… Find love… Then… Then come find me again…"

Windstrider keened. It was open on his face that he would do as my Sire wished. He pressed his face to his arm. "I will, I will. I'll _try_. As long as I can. As long as I can… I promise… I promise."

Papa nodded. He turned his gaze up to me. Instead of speaking right away, he took a bloodstained hand and patted my helm. "'Proud of you. Always will be proud of you. Forever, NightStrike. Forever."

I nodded, the cables in my throat feeling constricted. He soothed me through the ragged bond. Ironic; the one who is dying has to soothe his grieving child. I took his love, his comfort and soothing ness, and I saved it forever in my memory and my spark.

"I need to ask something of you."

"Anything, Papa. I promise, I'll do it, whatever it is you ask. Anything. Everything. I promise." I nodded again at him, blinking blearily as Shadeburner and Windstrider both looked up at us, watching us.

"I need two things from you, Nightstrike," he vented harshly at me. "First and foremost. I need you to stay with your Mimi. Support him. He'll need you… and love your sibling." It was spoken over the bond to me in a soft whisper. ::_Your Mimi has already begun to hate it… Don't let it grow with hate, my sweetspark… Love it. Raise it well… and… if peace comes, get out of the pits. Become something, and don't ever be afraid to love and feel loved, my darling.::_

I nodded faintly, keeping our bond message to myself. "I'll try, Papa. I'll try…"

"Second," he breathed faintly up at me. "Kill me. I can't take this suffering, watching you all suffer with me. End it. I cannot by our codes… but you can. Lock away your pain, your fear, for me. And kill me."

Horror and utter revulsion filled me, before I stuffed it down to rot with my other emotions. What Papa asked me was something I could grant. Something I knew I could grant. I was a raised killer. I was born to savage and kill. Mimi was protesting next to me, but made no movement to get shove me away… Mimi would be angry with me for this. But it was something I had to honor. That I could for sure honor.

But why did it feel like this killing would kill a part of _me_? Other then the obvious reasons.

But I nodded. I had to honor his wishes. "How?"

He hummed, optics faint as they looked at me. A wry grin took up his lips. "Our family trait should suffice my sweet one…" He vented.

I nodded. Releasing all of my toxins into my energon lines, feeling it swirl through me with a certain and numbing pain, a pain that I no longer cared to register… To feel. I lifted my hand to his helm, and gave him first the Salus in a straight up concoction to his processor, and all movement stopped, save his mouth. It gapped and gasped with ragged vents.

"I love you all…" He rasped airily. "Proud forever…"

I shifted my hand over his spark, and I couldn't do it… I couldn't. The emotion welled up in me, unbidden by my will. And then Papa swept over me in a hug, tightly pulling away and sealing my emotions tightly behind a barrier that I had no hopes of penetrating. A barrier made of love.

My hand dropped down, and my claws went into his spark.

His frame convulsed once, a soundless scream coming from him, and echoed in reality by the three of us around him. Then he went still, love and peace flowing over the bond before it disappeared, leaving a gaping blackness in my being.

I don't know when it happened, but Mavnal was there suddenly, keeping Uncle Windstrider's spark beating, as he gazed at me with open horror, and distain. Disgust.

He wouldn't understand. None of the Prime's would.

I could feel my Mimi's pain as clearly as if it were my own. I could feel his suffering, and through him, I could feel the newspark, not sure why there was pain and suffering. It tried in vain to help Mimi. But Mimi shoved it away and locked the bond to it. So I reached for it, and I embraced it. I brought it to me through the bond, and I made sure it was my sibling once and for all.

Through it all, through every thing that happened here in less then one half of an alien hour, I found one thing unsettling.

With my Papa gone… The bond snapped…

Why did I still _feel_ him holding my emotions back?

Why did I not completely feel this crippling _agony_ that everyone else could?

Why did I have to be the monster?

Why…?


End file.
